


When You Are Ready, You Will Know It

by StellarLibraryLady



Series: Star Trek The Gentle Seasons Series [32]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: "Waltz Across Texas", Adult Fairy Tale, Atlanta Airport, Baseball, Carping McCoy, Clones, Country & Western, Damsel in Distress, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Double Talk, Eating, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, Fairy Tale Elements, Fear Of Height, Ferris Wheel Riding, Ferris Wheels, Flirting, Georgia, Hoe-Down, Hoochie Coochie Dancing, Humiliation, Humor, Innuendo, Love Confessions, M/M, Ogre, Picnics, Pillow Talk, Protective Spock (Star Trek), Quaint Characters, Reassurances, Restive McCoy, Right-Veering Ogre, Rural Setting, Slow Dancing, Snuggling, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), Strained Friendships, Strained Relationships, The Clone Incident, Unrequited Love, county fair, daydream, life values, non-communication, song related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:18:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarLibraryLady/pseuds/StellarLibraryLady
Summary: After leaving Star Fleet in shame over a humiliating love affair with a clone that he thought was Spock, McCoy flees back to his Georgia roots to try to make a life for himself again.





	1. I Gotta Be Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Esperata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/gifts).



> Thanks to TAFKAB whose "Coming Up Empty" and to Esperata whose "Time Heals All Wounds" were the inspirations for this story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy is sustained by the simple life he lives at his ancestral home, but he discovers that he is not completely hidden even there.

The old pickup truck bounced along the rutted dirt road between what other people might consider to be waste acres of Georgia scrub pine and no-account weeds. But McCoy loved it, loved this useless expanse the way he could never love tilled, fertilized, productive acres. For these were lands that his forefathers had farmed, some of them not too successfully, he had to admit with a snort of ironic laughter.

But the land was still here, he thought with a flush of satisfaction. Just like he was. Maybe not as handsome, maybe not as young, maybe not as cocksure as he used to be, but he was still alive and kicking. And he'd had to come back to Georgia to find that out. The land will never desert you. It will never disappoint you. He grimaced. People will. Hell, he was one of those people who was capable of disappointing the ones he loved. He'd found that out the hard way, too.

He looked out the pickup window at ground that only a native of the area can appreciate. The land had seen all come and go, the good and the bad. And along the way, the land had been lucky enough to have people tending to it who loved it.

That hadn't always been the case in the history of farm ground in the South. Indentured servants had worked this ground to buy passage money back to whomever had sponsored that person's way to the New World. Owners of the land had past this way on their own journey from the cradle to the grave. Such as it was, such as it will always be with the land. But just as long as there is the land, a person can have a grip on history and his own fate.

Some carpetbagger from the North had come through this part of Georgia after the American Civil War, had wantonly swallowed up whatever ground he could grasp into his greedy fingers, and had aided in the further depletion of the thin red topsoil that the cultivation of cotton had spared. That carpetbagger had been in farming for the money, then had moved on when the land had no longer been productive. That’s when a poor sharecropper had stepped in and saved the farm by loving it and coaching it back into fertility. That threadbare sharecropper had been McCoy’s ancestor. He had used modern methods of farming (for then) and had set an example of love for the land that his descendants had followed ever since.

Each generation had coaxed the farm further into productivity until Grandfather had sent Leonard’s father off to medical school instead of insisting he farmed. David’s cousin and sons had run the farm all these years since David had settled in Atlanta. The cousin’s grandson was gradually taking over and soon would be running the whole operation on his own.

Down through the years, the McCoy family had been good stewards of the soil. They had provided themselves with an adequate and comfortable life for their families, but they had also insured a respectable livelihood and a bucolic way of life for those who would come after them. Even those family members who were born and bred in the city felt a kinship to the soil and often returned to reaffirm that connection. Atlanta-born Leonard McCoy was no except. Wherever his roaming took him in the universe, a part of him would always yearn for the bright red soil of the southern United States. That’s why he had returned to it when he’d felt he had no other option. Georgia would always welcome him home and give him a place to recuperate.

The current resident McCoy farmer, who lived in a modern home, ran the McCoy home place using a model farming operation. Students from the state agricultural college came out to observe the farm, and stories about its animal breeding system and small grain production appeared in all sorts of agricultural literature.

But Leonard McCoy was not interested in any of that. He lived in seclusion at the edge of a patch of timber behind his relative’s showplace. Visitors were not aware of the plain, but historic building, and that was fine with McCoy. Grandfather’s old farmhouse needed repair, but was adequate for McCoy’s simple needs. It had indoor plumping and electricity and an all-seasons heating and cooling system. A lot of his ancestors would’ve considered those amenities to be luxuries.

McCoy would’ve lived in a shack, if need be. He’d been that ready to don a hair shirt and beat his back with nettles when he’d left Star Fleet. At least he hadn’t needed to be that drastic with his self-flagellation. Just leaving the Enterprise, his friends, and his way of life had eventually proven to be enough of a sacrifice.

But the farm wasn’t on his mind today. In fact, he was nowhere close to his home. He’d driven for miles to reach the coast on what other people might consider to be a fool’s errand. But he’d had his reasons. He’d come to get more anchoring, more anchoring than even the farm had provided.

He hadn’t come to view the ocean, the mighty Atlantic, scene of so much romance and adventure in Earth’s history. No, his destination was far more prosaic, at least in the minds of most people. But he wasn’t most people. He never had been, thank you. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now!

No, he had to see something else again before he went any further. He wanted to remind himself that it would be still there tomorrow and even after he was gone, for that is the way of men and Nature. Nature lasts a damn sight longer than any individual man.

McCoy stopped his old pickup and stared at the sight before him.

A tidal salt marsh stretched before McCoy. A salt marsh looked empty and worthless, yet it still had a purpose in life. Otherwise, why in the hell was it even here? McCoy identified with it. It had grounded him and had finally helped him to sort out his life as his family’s farm had not. Even sitting on the scrub acres on the backside of the farm hadn’t felt as home as this stinking salt marsh seemed.

The farm had helped. The tidal salt marsh had put everything over the top. Reduced to bare necessities and barely living within the margins of existing, McCoy had learned to accept himself. He was a good person, despite what he had come to believe about himself.

Oh, it hadn’t been easy. Those first months, he had tried to blame Jim Kirk for what had happened. He'd wanted, no, he’d needed to blame somebody, anybody but himself. But down deep, he had known the real truth. For he was a man with a conscience who accepted responsibility for his actions, whether he could make a good case against someone else or not. He especially had tried to blame Spock. But why dump it all onto Spock? Hell, that poor guy probably had a shit load of his own angst to weigh him down without any more. Why should McCoy add to it?

Because, human being that he was, McCoy had wanted to dump the blame on anybody but himself.

So McCoy had fled the scene of his deep shame, had fled with his tail between his legs, back to his roots. He had run there headlong and unheeding, not really caring how he would survive, just wanting to live out his miserable life alone and in misery. For that was all that he deserved. Right?

But Life doesn’t let people get by with thinking like that. Life keeps prodding people, making people want to live it. That's how people are hardwired. That's how Mother Nature and the Supreme Being planned it. Because people are instilled with an instinct to keep on fighting, even though they don't want to do that intellectually. People basically want to survive until Life is through with them-- not the other way around. But, oh, McCoy fought it. He fought the new people in his life, the new job that needed his expertise and experience, and the very soil of his forefathers that would not give up on him. He fought them all, but they would not turn him loose. They would not give up on him.

Then had come the day when McCoy had made a startling discovery about himself. He really did believe in Life, and he wanted to live his. Not only that, he decided that he had to be responsible for his own happiness. Why should it be the responsibility of a shoe salesman in Seville, or a pearl diver in Japan? Or an enigmatic Vulcan with the cutest damn pointed ears in the universe?

McCoy accepted another truth, too. He should bring something more to a relationship than neediness. As the old song went, “I can’t be right for somebody else if I’m not right for me.”

Those new philosophies helped McCoy feel good about himself again, and he actually began to take an interest in this life that he had managed to cobble together out of leftover parts. Man is resilient. It's awfully difficult to hate yourself to death. You live until you die, and then you rate yourself on how well you handled your problems. Only you will ever know how well you succeeded, because everyone has his own rating system. But McCoy was satisfied with the guidelines which he had set for himself. They weren't up to Star Fleet standards, but neither was he. It was a good fit, and life hummed along for McCoy.

But then something happened, something that disrupted the delicate balance of McCoy's new life, something that shook him to his innermost core and showed him how fragile his new existence really was.

And what had so disturbed McCoy’s new pattern in life? His new friendships? His new job? His new daily routine? What had crippled his new hard-won foundation of a changed lifestyle so much that he’d had to hunt up his favorite tidal salt marsh to study its disgusting lifeforms just to ground himself again with its squalor?

What else?

 

McCoy had been surprised when he’d gotten the call. After all this time, what could it possibly mean? But he wouldn’t try to analyze it. He’d just go with the flow. After all, it wasn’t his party. He was just the puzzled host.

McCoy walked into the air terminal in Atlanta. Would he be able to spot his visitor after all this time? And then he saw a figure that he would know anywhere. Even from the back, he’d know that slender frame. True, the guy was wearing a tweed sports jacket over blue jeans instead of his usual blue Star Fleet uniform, but that damn crock bowl haircut and pointed ears would never change.

The guy sensed McCoy’s presence, turned, and gave McCoy a noncommittal assessment. Same piss-ant attitude, apparently. A smile for an old friend would’ve probably cracked something vital on the guest’s face, so he didn't. But there was a tiny flicker of an eyelid which McCoy couldn't interpret. Maybe it was jet lag or an annoying dust particle. McCoy couldn't even hope that it was a show of emotion from Spock when he finally saw McCoy after such a length of time. After all, Spock didn't show emotion.

But McCoy did. He couldn’t seem to stop his stupid grin. A lot of pent-up tension went with it. He didn't have to worry about the meeting anymore. The guest was here.

“Your plane must’ve arrived on time,” he ventured.

“And you did not,” his visitor noted dryly.

That stupid grin spread warmly inside McCoy. “Damn it, Spock, you haven’t changed much.”

Spock gave a questioning look that was probably meant to show a concern that was not real. “Was I supposed to?”

Damn green bastard! Condescending as hell!

McCoy had missed that. Damn, if he hadn't!

He also felt a spreading warmth for the familiarity of a guy he used to know. That intimacy would never go away. They had been through too much together. All of those years and experiences could not be ignored or forgotten. Not that easily. Not ever.

“Welcome to Georgia," McCoy said with a gentle sincerity he hadn't realized that he owned anymore. "I hope that you’ll enjoy your visit.”

“I am certain that I will, Doctor," Spock answered with the old-fashioned charm which McCoy knew he possessed. The Vulcan could always be counted on to be a gentleman. Then he went and ruined his graciousness by adding, "After all, I understand that the South is noted for its hospitality.”

And not even a nod of recognition for his host.

So it’s on. Again. As if the intervening time had never happened. Well, McCoy conceded. Maybe further back than that, back before the clone of Spock had entered their lives and had taken a willing McCoy to its bed. And had serviced McCoy with a pleasure he had rarely known. McCoy had buried that erotic history until he was once again looking at the model for the accommodating clone. Now McCoy stood there, trying to breathe as all sorts of memories of the Spock clone washed over him.

Apparently, an interval of time must have passed with McCoy studying Spock, an interval that McCoy was not aware of, but Spock was. It did not make Spock nervous, however. Just a little restive as if he was interested in getting to the next stage of their reunion, instead of taking a breather so early. It was lucky for McCoy that Spock could not see what McCoy was reliving in his mind.

“Do you have an adequate form of transportation at your disposal, Doctor? Or are we having to wait for some vehicle that will appear eventually? Will that occur through conventional means, or are you relying on some sort of Earthling magic to conduct us to your home?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I have transportation, ” McCoy mumbled as he brought himself out of his trance and finally focused on the here and now. “I don’t know how adequate it is, though.”

“It got you to your destination, did it not? Surely it is capable of retracing its journey here.”

“Well, I can’t guarantee the success. But it is capable.” He reached for Spock’s suitcase. “Here, let me take your luggage.”

But Spock did not relinquish possession. “I carried it this far. I am quite capable of carrying it a little further, I believe. It and I have become quite good traveling companions.”

’Have it your own way, you always do,’ McCoy wanted to mumble through clenched teeth. Instead, he just gave Spock the same smile that a friendly dog does when it shows its teeth, but does not intend to bite.

Spock raised an eyebrow in impatience. McCoy could almost hear the Vulcan’s disapproving sigh.

“Shall we go?” McCoy invited.

“Ah, the mode of transportation will soon appear.”

They fell into step together and headed for the front door. It felt so familiar to be walking side by side with Spock again. McCoy hoped that it felt familiar to Spock, too. It was an old habit of theirs from when they had been Kirk’s trusted advisers. Just doing something that simple and familiar gave peace to McCoy, and he became braver.

“Traveling light, I see,” McCoy ventured as he glanced at Spock's professed boon companion swinging easily in his hand.

“An old practice. From our Star Fleet days.” Spock slid his eyes toward McCoy. “Surely you remember how stringently we traveled then.”

McCoy’s nostalgic grin was wistful. “A change of uniform. Socks, undies, and jammies. Toothbrush. Nail clippers. Dress uniform, if needed.” McCoy’s grin deepened. “Nothing much else to remember except rank, name, and serial number.”

“We were not taken prisoner, Doctor, simply going on a mission.”

“No, I meant that we were reduced down to the bare essentials, that’s all. Never mind,” he mumbled, wanting to change the subject again.

McCoy had barely stopped himself from apologizing. He’d done nothing wrong, but he felt off-balance, as if he’d erred. Spock still had that influence on him.

“Mind what?”

A flare of anger tore through McCoy as Spock poked at him with his naive question. Now McCoy had to stop himself from losing his temper.

Damn it, Vulcan! Lighten up!

Instead of exploding, McCoy managed to backpedal. “Nothing. Just remarking that you are traveling light. Just, just making conversation, that’s all.” He felt like an idiot. Spock was reducing him down to the cackling stage in record time. Spock still had that influence on him, too.

“Oh. Oh, I understand. Small talk. You are making small talk.”

“Well, I don’t know how small it is....” McCoy waffled.

“Then why participate in a strenuous exercise if it is insignificant?”

“It’s a social amenity, Spock,” McCoy explained and caught himself with an upraised hand in his old, familiar gesture of trying to explain something to the knot-headed Vulcan. He lowered his hand and looked away. “It’s something that people do in a social situation,” he muttered. "That's all."

“Oh.” Spock seemed to ponder that information. “So we are in a social situation, are we?”

McCoy couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice. “Yes, Spock, we are.” He gave himself a quick talking to about being sociable and tried to get amiable again. After all, he’d been a diplomat, among other things, during his Star Fleet service. Surely, he could get along with one contrary Vulcan who used to be his shipmate and friend.

It was suddenly so familiar, though.

They were squabbling before they got out of the terminal. That felt kinda good. But he would not allow himself to fall into old practices, not that fast.

Luckily, the ordeal of getting out of the terminal door interrupted any further discussions on that subject. Neither man seemed interested in reviving it, either, no matter how deafening the silence around them grew.

A few minutes later, Spock stared at the old pickup waiting for them in the airport parking lot.

“That got you to Atlanta and through city traffic?” he asked warily.

“Yep,” McCoy asserted as he squinted at the pickup. “A hundred thousand miles and still running strong. A little arthritic at times.” He squinted in the bright Georgia sunlight at Spock. “But, hell, aren’t we all? It’ll get us where we want to go just fine, though”

“You Southern men are certainly optimistic, if nothing else,” Spock muttered as he headed toward his royal chariot. “I did not realize that Georgia was going to be the land of adventure, but apparently it will be.”

McCoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. Why the hell was Spock being so difficult?!

"Are you coming, Doctor? Or am I expected to try my luck in driving this historic relic? If that is the case, I can then certainly assure you that we will both be in for an adventure."

With buzzing head, McCoy followed his guest.

Oh, yeah, sharpen your sword, McCoy! The Vulcan has arrived for a state visit!


	2. Not The Easiest Day In McCoy's Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy and Spock have an incomfortable ride from the airport.

McCoy relaxed a little after he had silently navigated through the majority of Atlanta's traffic. The worst of it was over, thankfully. He hadn’t spoken while he had been guiding the pickup along the busy city streets for a good reason. He hadn’t wanted Spock to be concerned that McCoy was not concentrating on his driving. McCoy could have conversed quite easily while steering, but he didn’t want to cause any more tension between them. So he had not uttered one word until they were well in the outskirts of the city and headed for open countryside. 

McCoy turned toward his passenger. “Traffic seems to be thinning out now. It won't be this crazy out on the farm,” McCoy noted. He tried a shaky grin. "Promise."

The only reaction that earned him was a noncommittal stare, then Spock turned slowly, disdainfully away. The only thing that unspoken comment lacked was an upraised Vulcan eyebrow. But McCoy felt it. The Vulcan had not lost his ability to make someone feel lower than the roadbed itself.

McCoy went back to his driving, and he even began to watch the changing scenery.

Sprawling suburbs began to whiz past them on the interstate. The city seemed to expand more every year.

"Your visit was rather unexpected," McCoy continued.

"It was for me, also," Spock agreed.

It almost startled McCoy to hear Spock speaking so reasonably, so McCoy tried for a normal conversation.

"How did that all come about, anyway?" McCoy asked.

Maybe Spock had merely been concerned about the congested traffic in Atlanta, because now he seemed willing to talk.

"Jim and I were scheduled to attend a meeting at Star Fleet Headquarters in San Francisco," Spock explained. "Then Jim decided that he could attend it alone. I do believe that part of his decision involved a comely captain of another Star Ship."

Well, some things haven't changed, McCoy thought. "Sounds like Jim is up to his old methods of operation."

"Yes." An eyebrow went up slightly. "He was quite distracted. I offered to represent the Enterprise alone, but being captain of a Star Ship was part of his allure."

"Allure?" McCoy echoed with a grin.

McCoy was enjoying this easy conversation. Jim Kirk and his woman-chasing ways were apparently safe topics to discuss.

"His term, not mine," Spock said in a tired-sounding voice.

"Well, he's having a good time then. Even if he never makes it to a meeting."

"That is how I came to be relieved of my official duties. Since I was therefore at liberty, I decided to contact you. It was an opportunity that I could not pass up, but I still believe that I should be in San Francisco."

"Well, I was certainly surprised when you called."

That was putting it lightly. Thunderstruck would’ve been more accurate than simple surprise.

But the understatement apparently didn’t get past Spock. In fact, Spock seemed to have read McCoy’s mind.

Spock got an amused look on his face, or maybe he simply thought that McCoy’s verb choice was pale or inappropriate for the situation. Anyway, the Vulcan relaxed for the first time since McCoy had seen him today.

In fact, out of the corner of his eye, McCoy saw almost a flicker of a smile coming from Spock. The Vulcan must be rolling with laughter inside.

Damn Vulcan! At it again! McCoy grimaced as he realized that they'd lost their easy conversation of only a moment ago. He hated to admit it, but the little green bastard could still pull his chains.

No. No, McCoy chided himself. He would not fall into old habits. Not that quickly. He had spent too many solitary days of doing nothing to reach this level of peace within himself. He would not throw it all away that easily or that quickly. There were too many scars on his heart that he thought had been healed over. McCoy was not prepared to rip the healed wounds open again. And certainly he was not prepared to do that injury to himself in Spock’s condescending presence.

McCoy would play it cool and collected. He could do that. He just had to regain control. Breathe deeply, and evenly, and slowly. Do not hyperventilate. There. Better, much better.

Another deep, slow breath.

There.

Better. Much, much better.

But he had not fooled the Vulcan.

”Better?” Spock wanted to know.

”Hmm?” McCoy tried to concentrate on the road as if he wasn't paying any attention to Spock.

“Is it alright now?” Spock insisted.

McCoy jerked his head up. “What? Is what alright now?” 

“Whatever is upsetting you.”

McCoy frowned. “Why do you think that I as upset?”

Spock glanced at McCoy. “You are gripping the steering wheel as if you were trying to choke the very life out of it. You have a grim set to your mouth as if you are enjoying the fact that you were trying to choke the very life out of the steering wheel.” He turned back to his view of the traffic around them. “And, you were muttering about someone pulling your chains. Although I believe that you are mistaken on your assessment of your current situation. I can see no visible signs of chains anywhere on your body, nor of anyone trying to pull those non-existent chains.”

McCoy’s mouth spread in a demonic grin which showed most of his teeth. Damn it! He must’ve spoken out loud.

McCoy decided to lie himself out of the situation, if he could. The Vulcan was smart, though. Let Spock think that McCoy was using another of his Earthling idioms which puzzled Spock so much.

McCoy pointed with his little finger toward a vehicle just ahead of them. “That teenage brat in that hovercraft that just passed us so fast, then darted back into our driving lane equally fast. He doesn’t have the sense of a yearling calf around a bunch of seasoned bulls. That kid doesn’t know shit, but he thinks that he does. And he’s getting by with his recklessness. He fried my fritters, that’s all.”

“I did not realize that you had fritters to be fried or chains that could be pulled. I assumed that even in the hardest weather in the wintertime, that this part of the United States would not require vehicles to use chains to maneuver local driving conditions.” He gave McCoy a hard look. “The only other thing that I could surmise by your curious statement is that my presence has upset you. Perhaps my visit was not a good idea, after all. Shall I go back?”

”Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! That’s awfully fast!” McCoy fought back a surge of initial relief. Could this dreaded visit actually be averted so easily? Then he knew that it couldn’t. No matter how much he’d like to forget Spock and all that had happened with the clone, McCoy knew that he couldn’t. He also knew that he had to face it eventually. He was halfway there. Why back up and delay it with the prospects of another eventual visit? He had to see a meeting through with Spock. And it might as well be now.

”I am prepared to return to Atlanta and then to San Francisco where Jim is, if that is your wish. I could certainly spend my time at museums and aquariums,” Spock declared and folded his arms in a sign of stubbornness.

That’s when McCoy decided that Spock was in the same place as he was. Neither wanted this visit, but both knew that it was necessary. It helped to calm McCoy down to know that Spock was leery, too. And McCoy also made the deduction that he could even help orchestrate some of what might happen while Spock was here. McCoy stopped feeling like a host with no power. Instead, he became an active participant with equal footing and say.

But first, he had to calm down one ruffled Vulcan.

“Now, you gotta give it a chance, Spock! We’ve been around each other-- What? Half an hour? Forty-five minutes, counting the time in the airport terminal? That’s a helluva ways to come for a short buzz into the countryside. Jim would look awfully puzzled if you showed up in San Francisco so fast again. You've hardly had an opportunity to get your legs stretched.” 

That suggestion seemed to prompt Spock. He unconsciously stretched his legs before him and unfolded his arms. McCoy approved. At least Spock was relaxing. He probably was no longer thinking of bailing out of a moving vehicle. McCoy doubted that even a bullheaded Vulcan would fare well if he tried pulling that stunt.

McCoy glanced around. How had they gotten to this small town so fast? It shouldn’t be coming up for miles, not be here already. How had that happened?

Then McCoy knew how. He hadn’t been paying attention and had been driving automatically.

McCoy realized that they had passed several miles that he did not remember. Driving like that could be dangerous, especially on an interstate.

And that scared the hell out of him.

“Son of a bitch!" he muttered under his breath, but of course Spock heard him.

“It is obvious that my presence is bothering you, Doctor. If you are having to resort to that type of language, perhaps you should turn around and take me back to the city. Or let me out right here and now, and I will hitchhike back to Atlanta.”

That proposal sounded so ridiculous to McCoy that it grounded him and brought an amused smile to his lips.

“You? Hitchhike?” He saw Spock trying to nod as if the idea was the most natural thing in the world for him to offer. That’s when McCoy realized how ill at ease that Spock really was. That should’ve been McCoy’s first clue. Spock wasn’t being logical in his thinking,

It helped to settle McCoy right down.

McCoy grinned. “You can’t stroll around on these Georgia back roads like you’re out looking for a stray cow that's gone lost or something. You look different, in case you hadn’t noticed. You’d scare the hell out of the farmers around here if they came across you on the road. Or any cow, for that matter. They’d think that a flying saucer had landed, for sure. You might stir up all sorts of trouble just by showing your face with nobody along to explain why you’re here.” McCoy grinned at the notion. “You’d certainly stir up interest, though. You’d be talked about for years to come. Hell, you’d probably become part of the local lore around here.” McCoy glanced at Spock with a lazy grin. “What do you think about becoming a legend in your time?”

Something about McCoy’s calmness gave Spock reassurance and calmness, also. “The locals do not know about Vulcans and intergalactic travel?”

McCoy’s smile deepened as he looked back at traffic. “Oh, they know. They just haven’t accepted it as being an integral part of their world, though. It’s like knowing about rich people sailing their yachts around the Greek Isles or Hippies living in love communes in the California foothills. That all went on in the Twentieth Century, but I’m sure that the ancestors of my current neighbors didn’t believe in those people, either. They would’ve been hard pressed to accept that not only did those rich people and Hippies exist, but that they thrived and even made a future for themselves and their children.”

Spock turned to McCoy’s profile. “Did the Hippies from California and the rich people threading their yachts through the Greek Isles believe in those Georgia farmers?”

McCoy laughed. “Good point. I doubt that they did. Whatever we don’t have personal knowledge of tends to seem exotic and remote.”

“I subscribe to the romantic notion that the people around here have existed for hundreds of years in a backwater existence. Not too much progress is made, but they hang on in memory of their former grandeur.”

McCoy glanced at him. “The Decadent South?” He looked back at traffic. “You just described the Decadent South, in case you don’t know it. A whole romantic literature has grown up around this area and the people who lived here in sheltered isolation. They should have died out a long time ago. But yet, here they are.” He waved his fingertips up to indicate the depleted ground around them. “Still here.”

And I couldn’t have picked a better spot to come, McCoy realized. Back to my roots, roots that describe me. Roots that don’t change. They don’t do much, but they do not need to do much, either. Just to be here for me. Maybe that selfish of me, but it’s what I needed. And this place supplied it. I want to exist in sheltered isolation, too, and deny that the world is changing around me.

McCoy blinked and sat up, looking puzzled. They were several more miles down the road.

“I’ll be damned,” McCoy muttered.

“Is there a problem, Doctor?”

“That’s the second time it’s happened. The thing that upset me.” He glanced at Spock. “And it wasn’t you.”

“Then, what?”

“I’ve driven several miles and not remembered doing it. Sorry. I gotta quit doing that. You won't have any confidence in my driving.”

“Do you find that you do that quite often, Dr. McCoy?”

McCoy almost laughed about the transparent question being asked by the suddenly uneasy man beside him. Ah, Spock, the scientist and sometime doctor. And, also, Spock, the vulnerable passenger in a vehicle being maneuvered by someone not paying attention to his driving. Not Spock’s idea of adventure today, apparently, McCoy deduced and felt like laughing again.

“Do I do that quite often? Forget that I’m driving? No,” McCoy admitted with a huff of breath. “Just today.”

“Interesting phenomenon,” Spock decided and settled back against the seat again.

“People do it all the time, on roads that they know very well,” McCoy explained.

“Are you quite familiar with this road?” Spock wanted to know.

“Not that much. That’s what bothers me.”

“Most curious presentation.”

McCoy could almost see the raised eyebrow and did not know if it was raised for Spock’s interest or his skepticism. McCoy would’ve believed either answer.

“Still a man of science, too, aren’t you?” McCoy asked with a lazy grin.

“We cannot help what we were and are, Doctor. It is ingrained in us.”

“Once a doctor, always a doctor,” McCoy chanted, almost bitterly because his memories were bitter. “Once a member of Star Fleet, always a member of Star Fleet. Once a friend, always--” McCoy brought himself out of it. “Sorry. I’m crossing a line. We should not be having this discussion.”

“Maybe not while you are driving, that is true,” Spock remarked dryly.

“It gives me something to do with my hands. The driving, that is.”

“What else did you have planned to do with them?” Spock asked with some trepidation in his voice.

McCoy laughed and realized that Spock had just used humor to calm McCoy down. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t do anything like that, not out here on a public highway.” He nearly winked. “Too much chance of being seen by potential witnesses. You see, the Law is so damn picky when mayhem and murder happen in Georgia.”

“We seem to be leaving the major thoroughfare, though,” Spock remarked as they turned abruptly onto the exit ramp. "The risk of potential witnesses is lessening."

“That it is." Damn Vulcan, developing a sense of humor. "No, we turned for another reason. We're getting closer to home,” McCoy announced as they headed down a two lane country byway. “This a pretty quiet road. I don’t have to watch my driving so carefully.”

“Accidents often happen within a small distance from home. Twenty-five miles, I believe, is the general estimate given.”

“That’s because we’re generally on those same twenty-five miles of road while we’re doing the majority of our driving,” McCoy explained as he turned off the two-lane blacktop onto a graveled access road.

Spock frowned. "We must be getting close to your home. Otherwise, we will surely run out of road soon," he noted dryly.

"How right you are, Mr. Spock," McCoy answered genially. "We are closer than you could imagine." McCoy pulled off the gravel to park in front of a ramshackle building backed by Georgia pines.

“This is your home?” Spock read the sign over the front door. “Culver’s General Store? Are you a merchant now? And why do you call yourself 'Culver?'”

“No. This isn’t mine. This is a genuine, antique, crossroads mercantile like the kind that used to be found all over the South. It’s a dying breed. I can get fresh milk and my mail and the local gossip all in one spot here without having to go all the way into town for it. Gasoline for the truck and cold soda pop, too, if I’m thirsty.”

”It sounds as if it is an oasis,” Spock remarked.

”That’s as good of a description as any,” McCoy agreed as he opened the truck door. “Come on in and meet the folks, so they'll get to know you. You’ll want to get acquainted here, too, so they'll recognize us if you come wandering in here by mistake sometime," he teased.

”Indeed.” Spock looked skeptical, but followed McCoy toward the store. His Georgia adventure, apparently, had begun.


	3. Down-Home Folks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock meets some locals, including an inquisitive youngster.

A bell over the door tinkled merrily in greeting as they entered the well-stocked store, and Spock felt as if they had taken a step backward in time. It was a combination grocery store and dry goods and hardware store all rolled together without having anything very fancy in it. There were just some things to carry a country person over until the opportunity arose to get into the bigger stores in the city. 

It was difficult to see individual items, but Spock tried. The aisles and racks and shelves were stuffed with items that have been basics for country people for hundreds of years. There was nothing fancy, but it was all serviceable. To Spock, it was like walking into a living museum of what life used to be in the majority of rural America. He was amazed that such a place as this actually existed. To McCoy, though, the store seemed not to be that unique. So maybe that meant that other stores of this caliber still dotted the landscape. That impressed Spock as much as the very existence of even one such store.

But Spock's interest was of more than historical value. This store was part of the picture of what McCoy’s life was now like. And for that reason alone, Spock was deeply interested in the articles. McCoy handled just such tools of these on a daily basis on the farm. He ate this food. He wore these clothes. He knew these people. He lived this life. So Spock soaked it all in as if he was an eager sponge for knowledge of McCoy’s world. Maybe this would help Spock to understand why McCoy was willing to stay here in obscurity.

A few long-sleeved blue denim shirts hung near a pile of folded Levis. Open boxes of common construction nails and hammer handles kept company with shotgun shells and rifle bullets. Five pound sacks of white flour and white sandwich bread stood beside tin cans of pork ‘n’ beans, creamed corn, peaches, and processed meats. A cooler along the back wall of the store contained milk, oleomargarine, sliced bacon, luncheon meats, and an assortment of beer and soda pop. At least the locals did not starve, and it was a collection of what people really ate opposed to what they should eat. A few in-season fruits and vegetables, provided by local farmers, were also displayed. Spock perked up. At least HE wouldn’t starve, without having to resort to a tin can diet that was fit for only billy goats with cast iron bellies.

But the general store was so quaint. Spock expected to see wooden barrels filled with everything from soda crackers to pickled fish. It looked and felt as if it had dropped out of the Out West pioneering era of Nineteenth Century America. At any moment, Spock fully expected that Ma Ingalls or Marshall Dillon would appear for supplies and that they would be dressed in their rustic work clothes from the Western prairies.

As it was, the storekeeper filled in until they arrived. And he seemed to know McCoy. “Lenny!” he boomed heartily. “Back from the big city, I see! And you got your guest with you!” The friendly storekeeper was overweight and had a flowing mustache and a florid face, and looked as welcoming as his speech. He was dressed in the kind of white apron over white shirt and work pants that storekeepers wore several hundred years ago. Spock felt immediately at ease with the friendly man, despite his quaintness in appearance.

Spock glanced at McCoy. “Lenny?”

“Gus knew me as a boy,” McCoy muttered, sheepishly. “He used to sneak me candy. All of the farm kids loved him. Still do.” Then McCoy raised his voice, and Spock realized that the genial storekeeper was apparently hard of hearing. “Gus, this is my friend Mr. Spock who’s come to spend a few days with me,” McCoy explained as he took a few steps toward the proprietor. "If any mail comes for him, you can put it in my box. We’ll be through occasionally to check for it."

Spock had the feeling that the explanation was as much for his benefit as for Gus’s. This sort of casual handling of personal mail was probably common practice in this sparsely occupied area.

Nothing seemed to be locked up, Spock noted as he glanced at the open boxes for mail. He did not wish to embarrass McCoy or break some local taboo by asking about mail service, so he decided to be trusting of methods that seemed to work for the locals. He figured he should just be happy if any mail received here for him didn’t get read by others before he had the opportunity to do so himself. He also figured that there were few secrets in this area.

"Be glad to do that for you and your friend, Lenny!" Gus’s triple chins quivered as he laughed.

"I'd appreciate it, Gus."

“And I'm glad you could be with us for awhile!” Gus boomed heartily at Spock. Apparently Gus had decided that Spock was also slightly deaf.

Spock did not have that problem and cringed with his sensitive Vulcan ears. "Thank you," Spock answered carefully, but loudly .

"Yes, sir! Glad to see a new face around here!" Gus continued. “You’ll liven up the place, alright!”

Spock also felt that Gus wasn’t exaggerating. Culver’s General Store probably didn’t have too many strangers who dropped in.

”A new person in the area always sets tongues to wagging,” Gus continued. “But don’t let that bother you none. We aren’t malicious folks at heart, just wanting to get acquainted, that’s all!”

Spock wanted to get acquainted himself. He wanted to understand McCoy’s world. But he would try not to be as blatant about it as Gus was.

However, Spock also felt compelled to give McCoy a writhing glance, just so McCoy would feel guilty about the nosiness of his acquaintance. As if McCoy could be responsible for something like that!

McCoy noticeably felt sheepish from Spock’s pointed disapproval. “Nothing much goes on around here, except farming, so a new face is pretty exciting,” he said in the way of explanation. But McCoy would offer no more apology than that.

“Obviously,” Spock intoned haughtily, and McCoy wondered once again why Spock was here if the way of life was going to bother him so much.

The strained silence might have continued had Spock not become aware of another presence. He turned. A boy about ten or eleven years old stared openly at him. Long spikes of rusty auburn hair bristled out in all directions and framed his freckled face that was punctuated with chocolate brown eyes. He wore tattered overalls over a faded plaid shirt and was barefooted. And nothing broke his open stare at Spock, not even an occasional blink.

That stare offended Spock. “Should you not be in school somewhere, young sir?” Spock wanted to know. He did not like to be silently stared at, so the child was upsetting him.

“Summer, Mister. Ain’t no school now,” the boy explained. Then he squinted up at Spock as if he had poor eyesight. “And what about you, Mister? Shouldn’t you be in a spaceship going somewhere?”

“Timmy--” Gus cautioned. He seemed to be able to understand the boy's soft Georgia lisp just fine without it being amplified.

”Well?” Timmy persisted. "Shouldn't you be in space?"

“Several of us should be,” Spock muttered in reply.

McCoy shifted nervously. He’d felt Spock’s pointed jab at him.

“You’ll have to excuse my grandson,” Gus said. “He’s bored.”

Timmy gave Spock a critical look. “You’re an alien, ain’t you?”

“Timmy--”

“I am half-Vulcan. But half of me is human, just as you are.”

Timmy narrowed his eyes as he studied Spock. “Which half of you is Vulcan?”

McCoy's eyes sparkled with sudden interest. Meanwhile, Spock simply stared at the child, unsure how to answer.

“Timmy, you should leave the gentleman alone.” Then Gus gave Spock an appealing look. “Honestly, Mr. Spock, I don’t know where he gets it. He doesn’t know a stranger. And he could talk the bristly hide off an angry badger, if I'd let him. Timmy, it isn’t nice to ask personal questions of someone.”

But here was something that Spock understood. He saw it as an opportunity to instruct someone and to learn for himself. “He is curious, sir. I understand curiosity. I am curious myself.” He looked at Timmy who was waiting for an answer. “I am a mixture, not too halves joined together.”

“Oh.” Timmy sounded disappointed. “Dang it, I wanted to see where you were sewn together.”

From the corner of his eye, Spock saw an unguarded grin flash across McCoy's face.

“Timmy! Where did you come up with a notion like that?!”

“That is alright, sir,” Spock said patiently. “Let your grandson continue.”

So Timmy did, with a frown of concentration on his young face.

”Shucks, Mister. I wanted to see whether the seam ran up and down your middle with one arm and one leg being Vulcan and the other arm and leg being human, or whether you were stitched together at the waist with the top part being Vulcan and the bottom half being white or one of the other colors for people that we have here on Earth. We have several of them, you know.”

"That is what I understand," Spock answered stiffly.

"Yes, sir, pictures comin' outa cities show a damn technicolor array of people. Ain't that way around here much." Timmy squinted up at Spock. “I knew that the top part of you was Vulcan, because I can see your green face and pointed ears. I just was curious about how the bottom half of you looked.”

McCoy cleared his throat and shuffled around, trying to hold back a laugh. Spock decided to ignore him.

“A lot of people are curious about that part of my anatomy,” Spock answered stiffly. “And I can assure you that that part of me is a green color, also.”

This interview was not going well for Spock because it was causing him unease. It wasn’t Timmy who was bothering him, though, but the reaction of a man who was standing beside him, a man who was supposed to be his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Spock was well aware of McCoy fighting back laughter. McCoy was getting way too much entertainment out of Timmy’s questions and Spock’s attempts to answer those questions.

“I ain’t never seen no Vulcan before, Mister,” Timmy declared earnestly. “This mixture that you are, does that make a lot of difference in how you look in other ways?”

“I do not understand your question,” Spock answered.

“Do you half-guys look a lot like I do, or are you set up different inside your underpants?"

McCoy stifled a snort of laughter.

Timmy continued, "Do you have regulation equipment like most other guys do? Or do you have to squat like a woman when you can’t hold your water any longer and have to let it fly like the archangels have come home to roost? You know, like when you either gotta piss or go blind?”

In the sudden quiet, McCoy’s eyes widened as he stared straight ahead. That was almost worse than laughing. For McCoy didn’t dare bust loose with the laughter that was tickling his insides, and he knew that he would do that very thing if he looked at Spock.

But Timmy wasn’t finished yet.

”When you're squatting, do you have to keep your legs spread far apart so the piss doesn’t spatter back up on you? Or do your shoes get all speckled like a bunch of horseflies shit all over them? That could be a helluva problem for squatters, I expect,” Timmy stated earnestly. "I'd really like to know, you know? Since I ain't no squatter myself. I can handle my equipment just fine. It's odd to come across a grown guy who maybe can't."

McCoy made a strangled sound and turned away. His shoulders were shaking with barely controlled mirth.

Spock cringed. He did not know how to answer, and he certainly was not going to be an illustrated lecture.

“Timmy! Honestly, Mister, I’m sorry. Timmy, that’s poor manners. And your mother would be shocked at your language.”

Spock was no longer looking at the encounter as an opportunity to instruct and to learn. He just wanted the moment to be over. And it wasn’t because of the curious Timmy or his hapless grandfather, either.

Spock just wanted McCoy to stop the silent laughter that threatened to choke him at any moment.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spock. We don’t get many extraterrestrials around here. Timmy’s just naturally curious.”

“That was not the problem, I can assure you,” Spock answered as he glared at McCoy's back who was bent over some cans and seemed intent on selecting something for purchase.

“Finding anything there that you’re wanting to buy, Lenny?” Gus Culver asked, eager to change the subject.

McCoy straightened and turned. He had managed to wipe the smile from his face, but there was no way that he could stop his eyes from twinkling. “I’m seeing if there’s any canned goods that we’ll be needing.” His lips twitched as he turned. “Spock, is there anything in particular that you would like to eat while you are here?”

“I will leave that to your discretion, Doctor. You know the available selection of the local fruits and vegetables much better than I could ever pretend to know them.”

“There’s some fresh choices, but most produce comes in cans, Spock. The selection is pretty much the same here as in Hong Kong or Boston. Or the universe, at large, for that matter. We probably ate the same varieties of vegetables on board the Enterprise. Peaches And Cream sweetcorn. Kennebec potatoes. Rutgers tomatoes.”

“Just as long as it is not bark off your famous Georgia pines, I assure you that I will be quite satisfied with whatever you select.”

”Hey, Lenny, your friend has a sense of humor!”

McCoy wasn't reading it as humor, though. It was probably something darker and more sinister. But McCoy decided to go along with Gus. “Well, yes, he can be a card. Now, though, I think that we need to be on our way, Gus,” McCoy decided. He could tell that Spock’s patience was wearing thin. “Mr. Spock has come a long ways today, and I need to get him settled in for the night. You know how it is when you’ve been traveling.”

“Damned right, Lenny,” Gus agreed. “A friendly bed can be really inviting. Your friend probably can't wait to hit yours.”

That seemed to bring McCoy up short, but it oddly calmed Spock. Maybe it was because Spock sensed McCoy’s discomfort from Gus's comment that sounded unmistakably personal in light of the clone incident.

"Timmy, maybe you should go check my hound dogs out in back," Gus suggested.

Timmy squinted up at Spock. "Hey, Mister, wanna go see Grandpa's hound dogs? They ain't never seen no green guys before, neither."

"No, thank you," Spock said quickly before he had to demonstrate his equipment for Timmy and the hounds.

"Aw, shucks, nothin' excitin' ever goes on around here," Timmy mumbled. At the door, he paused to look back at Spock, "Except for you, Mister. And I ain't about to forget about you in a month of Sundays, and that's for damn sure."

"Timmy--" Gus cautioned, and Timmy left with downcast head.

McCoy and Spock left shortly afterwards themselves amid profuse apologies from Gus.

 

“Young Master Timothy provided a good argument for year round schooling, did he not?” Spock asked later as they rode in the pickup.

It had been a fairly quiet journey up to that point since leaving the crossroads mercantile. McCoy hadn’t known how to broach the subject of their recent adventure. He didn’t know if Spock was angry or insulted or both.

“Look, Spock, I’m sorry for what happened back there with Timmy. He’s just a kid.”

“A child who needs year round schooling. Maybe then he would be able to speak his native language better. At least, he would be afforded the opportunity for doing so.” Spock breathed deeply. “At least it was a unique experience to visit that store. It was indeed quaint, if nothing else.”

"It's a wonder that Timmy didn't ask you on a coon hunt."

Spock looked sharply at McCoy. "What would I want with a coon, whatever that is."

A grin tickled McCoy's lips. "A raccoon. People hunt them at night with hounds. They tree them and shot them and eat them for supper."

"How barbaric."

"Depends on your viewpoint. People need a cheap meat source. Coons are free for the taking. And it helps control the coon population. It works out well for all concerned. Except for the raccoons, of course."

McCoy glanced at Spock who was trying to digest all of this information. "You're in Georgia now, Spock. There's a different lifestyle here."

"Decidedly."

McCoy grinned. “It's like our visit to Culver's. We were actually killing two birds with one stone back there.”

“We are having wild game for supper?” Spock inquired. “I did not see you acquire it.”

“Now I know that you’re pulling my leg.”

“I must argue that point, Doctor. I have not touched your leg.”

McCoy was amazed that Spock’s misunderstanding of his idioms was not bothering him. In fact, McCoy was rather enjoying the verbal sparring. He felt none of his anger of old. It was just so good to be jousting with Spock again.

“No, Spock, I was introducing the locals to you and you to the locals. It’ll stop a lot of speculation about who my mysterious guest is. That store is better than a telegraph office or native drums in a jungle for spreading the news. Since newspapers and magazines died out, people have actually gone back to talking to each other, and Culver’s Store is a communal meeting place.”

“They have not heard of computers or the Internet?”

“Sometimes we lose Internet service out here in the hinterlands. We get our share of bad weather, and in many ways we are more isolated than we were three hundred years ago. The population in rural areas has continued to decrease for centuries, and we sometimes have to find very creative ways to maintain our livelihoods and our very lives.”

“The prospects for wild game for dinner just increased, I see.” Spock glanced at McCoy. “I am still a vegetarian, Doctor.”

“I figured. Don’t worry. There will be plenty to eat. And Davy Crockett won’t be shooting it, either.”

“I will rest easier with those reassurances.”

Spock was highly entertaining. McCoy was grateful, but equally puzzled. Was Spock’s unconscious humor actually a sign of nervousness? Could the normally unperturbed Vulcan be just as nervous about their upcoming time together as McCoy was? And if so, why had Spock proposed this meeting between them? It was bound to be an awkward time for both of them.

Why do it then?


	4. Getting To Know All About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock joins McCoy for a typical day and beyond.

“You are welcomed to stay here at the house today, you know,” McCoy offered as he slid into his pickup early the next morning. It was dewy and cool now, but soon the summer sun would be beating down on crops, beasts, and men alike. "You had a long day yesterday. I thought that maybe you'd like to sleep in or catnap while watching television. You know, take it easy for awhile. Be on vacation."

“I prefer to stay with you and see how you spend your day, if you don't mind.” Spock answered from the rider’s side. “I saw how you spend your evenings.” His tone was just on the safe side of complaining.

McCoy nodded self-consciously. “Sorry, I expect that it was a little quiet for you last night. Television and an early bedtime right after the late night newscast is my usual routine. Country folk are early to bed and early to rise types, especially in the summer. Plus, we’d both had big days yesterday. I drove clear into Atlanta and back. And you, well, you came all the way from outer space via San Francisco.”

“I was merely a passenger on my journey. It was not as if I drove a pickup for miles or flapped my arms through the air as if I was a self-sustaining bird on some sort of voyage of self-discovery. Transporters and shuttles and jets propelled me. I was merely along for the ride.”

“I meant to ask,” McCoy said as he looked both ways at the end of his lane, before turning out onto the empty blacktop. Spock had a little acid on his tongue this morning, but McCoy was determined not to acknowledge it. “How did you find Atlanta?”

“By transporters and shuttles and jets,” Spock answered as if it was the dumbest question in the world. McCoy could almost hear the sigh in his voice. Spock probably thought that McCoy was slipping for sure. That's what relaxation and retirement will do for you, McCoy could almost hear Spock prophesize. First you leave your job, then your brains leave you.

"I meant, how was the city? Was it to your liking?" He was desperately trying to find something to say that Spock could comment on.

"I saw the airport terminal. Then I saw a maze of streets that required your studied attention. I was not impressed by any of it, especially your inexperience in city driving which made you so quiet."

"That's not the reason--"

"There are some cattle ahead," Spock pointed out.

McCoy slowed up, which is always prudent in country where livestock could stray. But he saw none on the road. Then he spotted a nearby pasture where cattle were being loaded in trucks for market. The situation was well contained, but McCoy would not give Spock something else to complain about.

As if the Vulcan ever needed an excuse! And now he was being just plain mule-headed!

Damned Vulcan! Spock was going to be as closed assed as ever! It’s a wonder that he didn’t have hemorrhoid troubles as tightly as he held that anal sphincter shut. He must snap off his daily loaf as if it was made of bullets instead of excrement.

McCoy decided to try a different conversational tactic. “Well, I hope that you find today to be interesting. As I explained last evening, I work at a local medical clinic for a few days a week. We do basic care and send the more serious cases on to a regional hospital. It’s not much of a practice, but it provides medical care to residents of a sparsely populated area like this one is. Otherwise, I don’t know where most of the people around here would go for help close by when they’re ill or injured. I like to think that the clinic is a vital part of these people’s lives. It also gives me something to do to make me feel worthwhile, and I get to socialize with my neighbors. The job doesn’t pay much, but it helps me to take care of some bills and to feed the bulldog. So it’s a pretty good deal for me.”

That statement stirred Spock and made him more animated than McCoy had seen him all morning. In fact, Spock almost seemed alarmed. “You have a bulldog? I did not see it. Does it reside in the house?”

“Whoa! Whoa! No! No bulldog! Just a saying, that’s all.”

Spock relaxed. “I just needed to know if an animal resided in the house. I would like to be aware of any animals in residence, if you please. For the benefit of the animal as well as for mine. It might be quite startling for the animal and for myself if we were to encounter each other before knowing of the others’ possible presence.”

McCoy tried not to let Spock notice any of the humor that the Vulcan’s concern was causing him. McCoy had seen Spock face any number of loathsome space creatures without batting an eye. But now Spock was worried about a possible domesticated pet in McCoy’s home? Of course, as Spock had pointed out so carefully, the key seemed to be in the foreknowledge of any potential animals in residence. McCoy supposed that he had to be generous and concede that Spock had known about the gruesome space creatures which he had once battled. Still, it was rather like an elephant being afraid of a mouse, in McCoy’s eyes.

McCoy decided that he needed to put Spock further at ease about the possibility of unaccountable livestock being housed with them. “Outside of the occasional mosquito that buzzes in by mistake or a misguided mouse thinking it would be a great place to spend the winter, the house is animal free.” He gave Spock a pleasant look. “Except for me, of course. And I ain’t planning on leaving.”

“I will make an exception about your presence, Doctor, since you are my host.”

“Well, I’m happy to know that,” McCoy mumbled and didn’t know if he was being as snide as his words sounded. It was difficult to accept that Spock, who had also grown up on Vulcan with all sorts of viscous creatures, would be uncomfortable with a domesticated cat or dog or any other critters that might show up in an old farmhouse in Georgia. Maybe it was all in what a person was used to being around, McCoy decided.

“Were the toaster waffles with strawberry jam sufficient for breakfast?” McCoy asked.

“Yes, they were quite tasty,” Spock answered.

“And the mushroom soup with wheat crackers for supper last night?”

“Adequate. And a welcomed relief from the prospects of wild game that could have graced the table.”

“You’ll have to let me know if you require more to eat. I generally graze when I’m at the house. A lot of the time, I eat at the diner in town or at a truck stop out on the interstate. Sometimes I forget to eat,” he muttered, as much in reproach to himself as to inform Spock.

“I thought that you had lost weight. Perhaps you will eat better when someone is here to eat with you.”

“Perhaps.” That was a damn odd thing for Spock to say, McCoy thought. “The replicators on the Enterprise spoiled me,” McCoy said in a lighter tone. “Back then, it was almost as easy as speaking and the food appeared.”

“I expect someday that all we will have to do is think about what we would like to eat, and it will appear in our hands.”

“Or we could take it one step further, and just THINK that we’ve eaten,” McCoy remarked with an ironic smile. He glanced at Spock with twinkling eyes. “Just think of the time that THAT would save! Just think of avoiding all of that wear and tear on our teeth.”

“Would that not be ill-advised for digestion, though? Would that not also create problems later on?” Spock answered with all sincerity and delicacy.

“You mean, would we be able to poop if we didn’t eat? Damn right, there'd be problems! Some things not even science can do better than Mother Nature, and the intake of foodstuffs and the elimination of their waste products is one of them!” McCoy declared, warming to his subject.

“Still, we could always take a fiber pill to ensure that we consume proper amounts of bulk for proper cleansing of the lower digestive tract.”

“Spock, I never thought that I would ever be driving down a road in rural Georgia and talking about the potential problems of future mankind’s inability to take a decent shit because he lacks sufficient bulk in his diet! Wish I'd had it on some kind of list, so I could check it off now,” he added sarcastically.

“Life can be surprising at times,” Spock mumbled. “And we should keep ourselves open to all possibilities.” He stared at McCoy. “Should we not?”

There it was again. Spock was hinting at something, but was never coming right out and saying anything. It was as if he was performing some elegant mystery dance, and only he knew the steps to that dance.

So McCoy did what he had been doing for nearly twenty-four hours now with Spock. He neatly sidestepped the potential confrontation.

“I hope that you rested comfortably,” McCoy said to change the subject.

Spock turned aside, as if the crisis had never been, and answered McCoy graciously. “Quite well, thank you. I had no idea that I would have my own wing when I asked if I could come for a visit, though. I was certainly surprised to learn that a farmhouse could be so rambling.”

“It just worked out that way,” McCoy answered, thinking back. “When Grandpa got older, infirm, and ill, he didn’t want to go into a nursing home. He wanted to keep the illusion of independence by living in his own home for as long as he was able. So he added on a small suite of rooms and hired around-the-clock nursing care. It took three shifts of women to care for him, and it was expensive as hell. But he died in his own bed in his own home. Maybe that bed hadn’t been in the same room he was born in, but it was in the same house. Grandpa took great comfort in that.”

“Having my own bathroom was an unexpected luxury. I thought that I would be having to share with you. I wondered if we would be able to dodge around each other in the mornings while we were dressed in only our underwear.”

McCoy sucked his breath in sharply as he envisioned a clear mental picture of just such a scene. It wasn’t difficult, because he and the clone had often done that very thing during their time together.

But now the real Spock had proposed the very same scenario for them!

Hell, things got personal fast! How could Spock describe something so intimately that McCoy and the Spock clone had done together?!

McCoy fought for indifference and self-control.

“Well, we didn’t have to do that now, did we?” McCoy asked with a lazy smile that was supposed to convey his unconcern. There! Let the damn Vulcan figure out a graceful rebuttal to that!

But Spock had no need to do that. For at that moment they cleared the trees, and the land suddenly opened up before them. Productive farmground with luxuriant growing crops appeared. It was like entering a different world from McCoy's scrubby back acres. 

The rapid change couldn’t have come at a better time for Spock and McCoy. They both had needed the subject to be changed.

“This ground is most productive,” Spock said in approval as he looked around.

“Yeah, thanks to my cousin and his sons who are running the farm scientifically. It took generations to recover what cotton growing and Post Civil War Carpetbaggers did to the soil, though. Now this farm is a showplace, but it wasn’t always. But no matter what, it has always been home,” he said in satisfaction.

“You are lucky to have your homeland.”

“Yeah, I might have been disappointed by a lot of people, but the land has always been here for me. I don’t ask a lot of it, though, except that it be here.” He gazed at the distant horizon. “Maybe that’s one of the mistakes I made.”

Spock glanced at McCoy with an unspoken question on his face.

“I asked too much of people.” He glanced at Spock. “But no more. I’m through with that. It’s just me that I trust from now on. Me, and the sustaining land.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed. McCoy was jaded. But who could blame him?

“Well, here it is,” McCoy announced long minutes later as he pulled into a parking place behind a small, nondescript building in a rundown end of a rundown town.

The rest of the ride had been rather quiet after McCoy’s declaration about not trusting people. And just when he was starting to open up, too, Spock thought.

Spock followed McCoy into the backdoor of the clinic.

“Good morning, Dr. McCoy,” a somewhat pretty lady in a nurse’s uniform greeted him.

There was something about her that Spock recognized, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. He noted the butterscotch hair cut ear length and ragged that wasn't quite stylish, the pretty face that was just short of being beautiful, and the figure that was adequate but not quite voluptuous.

“Morning. Carrie, this is my friend Mr. Spock. My nurse Carrie Carter,” McCoy handled the introductions swiftly.

Miss Carter smiled demurely up at Spock.

“Always nice to meet a friend of Dr. McCoy’s,” she murmured as she looked up at Spock through her eyelashes. From any other woman, that gesture would’ve been flirty. From Miss Carter, it simply showed her shyness. Spock warmed to her.

“Likewise, madam,” Spock answered graciously. What was seeming so familiar about this young woman?

“Any patients waiting, Carrie?” McCoy asked as he took off his cardigan and donned a scrub jacket.

“Of course,” she answered. “I have the Hastings twins ready in room two for you to see.”

“The Hastings twins? Again? I would’ve thought that broken arms last week would’ve slowed them down for awhile.”

“For awhile. But that was last week.”

McCoy rolled his eyes, and Carter gave him a sympathetic smile that lit up her eyes and made her momentarily beautiful.

That was it! Spock thought. Carrie Carter reminded him of Christine Chapel. Carter idolized McCoy as Chapel did. She was even hopelessly in love with McCoy as Chapel was. Why, she even had the same initials as Chapel: C. C.!

“Problem, Spock?” McCoy asked with a frown.

“Why do you ask?” Spock asked as he fought to clear the surprise from his face.

“Your eyes just bugged out and popped like you’d handled five thousand volts of electricity with your bare hands. A reaction like that will always get a doctor's attention. It's called shock. Next, a patient generally keels over into some sort of catatonic state. I wanted to know if you were planning on doing that, so I could keep you from falling and getting blood all over Carrie's nice clean floor. She gets a little testy when that happens.”

Carter gave McCoy an indulgent, embarrassed look. She didn't like the spotlight on herself.

Spock dug for something that was the truth, but not the current truth. He did not wish to embarrass Miss Carter by disclosing her secret so easily. “I am most curious as to how the Hastings twins have injured themselves now. Boys can always seem to find some form of mischief for themselves if they are idle.”

“Boys?!” McCoy hooted. “The Hastings twins are girls! Both redheads! Both double trouble! And little hellions! Nothing is ever going to tame them, not even approaching puberty. And neither one of them knows no fear.”

"Redheads?" Spock inquired. "Are they related to young Master Timothy, by chance?"

McCoy cupped his chin in thought. "I think that they are, now that you mention it." He lowered his hand and smiled pleasantly. "Of course, around here, most everybody is related. If they aren't first cousins, then they're second cousins!" he quipped. "The Hastings twins are about as smart as they are scrappers, too!"

“Perhaps they would be good candidates for Star Fleet Academy in a few years.”

McCoy looked amazed. “Mr. Spock, that might be the best suggestion that I’ve ever heard about those young ladies! We’ll run it by their parents. How did you ever think of that solution?”

“Bold spirits and boundless energy should never be curtailed, but channeled. It would be best for all concerned.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

“I am,” Spock answered darkly. “Ask my father for details.”

McCoy laughed on cue, as did Carter.

 

Several days later, a patient arrived at the clinic whom Spock recognized.

“Mr. Spock!" the young boy hollered. His auburn hair stuck out as unruly as ever. "I didn’t reckon I’d see you here! Are you ailin’, too?!”

McCoy looked with humor at Spock who seemed to swallow a sigh.

“No, Master Timothy, I am helping Dr. McCoy.”

“Good!” the boy yelled gleefully with shining eyes. “Then you can doctor me! I gotta carbuncle on my left butt cheek that's hurtin' me something fierce! Grandpa said that it's as huge as his big toe and looks mad as hell! It's throbbin' like a toothache!" Timmy was obviously proud of his problem, as any young boy would be. "It's like having a heartbeat in my ass! Wanna see?!” the boy offered as he began to pull his shirttail out of his overalls.

Spock jerked back quickly. “No, that is quite alright. I will let Dr. McCoy administer to your needs."

"I will be only too glad for you to assist me, so you can have this unique experience," McCoy said with an innocent voice that Spock knew was fake. McCoy's eyes betrayed him.

"Thank you, Doctor, that will not be necessary."

“Aw,” Timmy said in disappointment as he hung his head.

McCoy gazed at Spock with humor dancing in his eyes.

"In fact, I believe that is time for my break now,” Spock declared.

“Your break?” McCoy questioned.

“That is correct,” Spock answered airily as he headed for the door to the examining room. “You may have yours when you finish with your current patient.”

 

“You know, don’t you, that Timmy thinks the world of you,” McCoy stated as he sipped coffee later.

“I have no idea why,” Spock answered with an exasperated sigh. "I have in no way encouraged it."

“Children and animals,” McCoy said.

“What does that mean?”

“They know when something really has a good heart, no matter how hard they try to hide it.” McCoy nodded at Spock. “And Timmy has you figured out. He knows how big your heart really is.”

Spock crossed his arms. “I believe that you are mistaken. He is probably just waiting to see inside my underpants.”

McCoy nearly spit out his mouthful of coffee. Spock could be right about Timmy, though. He was a crafty little kid.


	5. Party Time In Dixie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy and Spock are headed for a party, but Spock starts early.

"It's just a little community get-together," McCoy explained. "With eats and everything."

"Hmm," Spock hummed in way of answer.

McCoy could only imagine how quaint and unpromising that a gathering of rural people would seem to someone as cosmopolitan as Spock. But McCoy wanted to expose to as many facets of his life as possible in the short time that Spock would be here. Spock was always inquisitive about new things. McCoy was certain that Spock would enjoy himself if he only relaxed and tried to meet people from the area. Spock got find that he actually liked McCoy's old kind of living.

McCoy and Spock rode in the old pickup truck as it bounced along in the later afternoon sunshine. They were both dressed in blue jeans and long-sleeved plaid shirts rolled up to the elbows. A trail of rock dust from the gravel road billowed behind them. They were probably helping to lime the first three rows of field corn on either side of the road. The cloudy liming that the corn got every time a vehicle stirred up the gravel accounted for its lusty growth and for the junkyard appearance of the corn further from the road.

"There's a covered dish potluck supper," McCoy further explained. "Don't worry. I brought a corn casserole with no sausages and some fresh Georgia peaches. There's bound to be all sorts of other fresh fruits and vegetables. And breads will be meatless. The closest you’ll get to protein will be tree nuts in the quick breads and cheese in my casserole.” McCoy grinned as he warmed to his subject. “The closest you should get to meat is if some bird flies up and lands on your shoulder. I suggest that you don’t choose then to become a meat eater. Don’t try to wring the bird’s neck, ‘cause that tends to piss birds off.”

Spock knew that McCoy was in a good mood, so he decided not to take umbrage with several items in McCoy’s information. 

“Thank you for taking pains to see that I am well provided for, Doctor. I do appreciate your consideration.”

That lightened McCoy’s heart more. He smiled in relaxation. “There will be music, of course. A lot of the country people seem to have a natural talent for banjo picking and guitar strumming. They must know hundreds of songs from the hills. And they love to share.”

Spock closed his eyes in self-martyrdom. Give me strength, he flung out to any gods that might be listening and could bestow some pity on a poor Vulcan boy adrift in the land of this great unwashed mass of heathens.

“Yes, sir, you might get to hear a lot of Texas swing and Blue Grass. Those never go out of style.”

It could be worse, Spock thought. At least this music would have a definite beat to it that he could follow. Some music from the Twentieth First Century sounded like it had fallen through cracks in the floorboards and had therefore suffered from its ill-fated journey.

“Musicians gradually settle down and play waltzes and two-steps when it gets dark so people can slow dance with their honeys. It gets all romantic then.”

Spock’s interest perked up. A musician with natural rhythm such as himself could appreciate romantic music, and the dancing couples would be interesting to watch for their dance patterns. Each couple generally had its own way of dancing together, too. And then it was fun to guess what people were saying to each other as they danced. Spock could not understand why people waited until they were dancing to share an important conversation, but many people did. Would not a different venue serve better, such as sitting in easy chairs before a roaring fire or walking slowly along a country lane? Perhaps the intimacy of being in each others’ arms helped people to confide their innermost thoughts better.

“You’re quiet,” McCoy noted.

“Just thinking about about the dancing that might go on.”

“Yeah, people like to dance. But earlier, there could be impromptu sporting events, such as baseball games or sack races.”

“Sack races?”

“People put their legs in a sack and hop to a goal line.”

“Why would they want to do that?”

“To see who can hop the fastest without falling down.”

“Not that. Why would they want to stick their legs in a sack in the first place?”

“For the sport of it, Spock! For the sport of it!”

“But they would seem ridiculous.”

“If you think that’s ridiculous, you ought to see the three-legged race. Two people each tie a leg to the other person. Then they run. Three-legged.”

Spock shook his head. “You Earthlings must really have to search for ways to entertain yourself.”

“Hell, you never even heard of motorcycle racing on ice or lifting up a semi by its front bumper with your bare hands, have you?!”

“If you do not mind, I believe that I will continue to pursue more intellectual sports, such as three-dimensional chess.”

“To each his own,” McCoy muttered. “Oh, there’s always talking going on. You'd like that. People can visit with each other for hours, as long as there’s some food in a picnic basket to munch on and some sweet tea to be drunk. In an election year, there’s a lot of politicking going on. Maybe even some fistfights, if people feel strongly about the issues or the candidates.”

“Southerners seem to have strong emotions and display them sometimes without self censure,” Spock noted. One such Southern was seated beside him now. How well Spock knew McCoy’s erratic, heart-rending side.

“Yeah, we do tend to wear our hearts on our sleeves," McCoy said as if he'd heard what Spock was thinking. "But we’re full of passion. We tend to feel our emotions more strongly than we should.”

“I know,” Spock murmured.

McCoy flashed him a grin. “Yeah, you'd know, wouldn't you? Guilty as charged." He thought a moment. "I think that there probably won’t be a revival tonight. That’s when Southerners can really get carried away with their emotions. You get a fire breathing preacher leading them, and these Southern Baptists can really have a good time relating to their religion. It makes you want to join them in their joy. There's nothing passive in those folks.”

Spock must’ve looked either startled or disapproving, for McCoy said with a grin, “Don’t worry. I haven’t heard of any revivalist around, and this isn’t an election year. So there won’t be any fire and brimstone sermons and no speechifying about the evils of this world or the glories of the next.”

Spock relaxed. Perhaps it was best that he not have first-hand knowledge of all the factors of McCoy’s life. After all, he didn’t need to follow McCoy into the shower to know that he bathed daily. His nose told him afterwards how fresh that McCoy’s body smelled. Soap was better than any perfuming agent which McCoy might choose to apply to himself.

At breakfast, Spock likewise saw McCoy’s dark hair still damp from the shower and noticed how McCoy’s trousers clung to his backside when he’d apparently missed an area while toweling dry. Water-cooled skin probably wasn’t a problem in this Georgia summer heat, so McCoy didn't mind it.

In fact, the skin probably felt most pleasant as the evaporating water helped to carry off heat from McCoy’s body. It might even be most pleasant then to touch McCoy’s body as it was being chilled by the evaporation process. McCoy would probably shiver from Spock's warm touch.

Spock pictured himself then embracing McCoy and being plastered against that cooling body. Of course, Spock was naked, too. How else could he properly appreciate the feel of all that exposed skin if his own skin was not likewise exposed?

Spock noticed a nudge from his nether regions, but was too lost in his musings to pay much attention to primitive urges. He was certainly not aware of the fact that he was in a pickup bouncing down a dusty country back road. No, in his reality, he was in a bare-ass naked clinch with another bare-ass naked guy, and nothing else was important.

How wiry McCoy skinniness would feel in his arms opposed to a woman’s curvy plumpness. The problem for Spock was deciding whether the front of McCoy or his back would be the preferred part to have nestled against his own nakedness. Which way would he embrace McCoy? Both had their merits. And their appeals. Such a problem! Such a wonderful, delectable problem! He wondered if Socrates or Plato had even been met with a problem such as this. And if so, how they had solved it.

No, Spock suddenly realized, the current problem was being stirred by an over-active imagination. And soon it would become quite apparent to McCoy, also. Spock tried to turn aside the part of his body with the tell-tale evidence that was quite in view now. He hoped that he would not knock a hole in the door frame with his rampant member. McCoy would be bound to notice an indentation like that and demand explanations that Spock in his embarrassment would be reluctant to provide. Then McCoy's problem would be whether to rant or to laugh ribaldly.

“Spock! What’s going on?! You look like a stalk of really healthy broccoli!” 

Spock hoped that McCoy meant the dark green color of his face and not the rigid stalk part.

“No, shit, Spock!” McCoy demanded as he tried to steer the pickup, watch the road, and look at Spock, all at the same time. “What’s going on with you?! You’ll be putting out the brilliance of the sun next!”

“Anticipation,” Spock managed to choke out while trying to picture grotesque mutilations of his friends and devastating fires in the bowels of the Enterprise instead of McCoy’s damp body against his eager one.

That answer seemed to satisfy McCoy, so he went back to his driving. But the chaotic images that Spock needed wouldn’t come to him. Not as fast and horrifying as Spock wished they would, and not as fast as he was going to... come!

Oh, hell! roared through Spock’s brain.

Yes, a Vulcan can curse. Generally, it's just in their minds. Under the right circumstances, though, a Vulcan could probably out-cuss even McCoy. Or young Master Timothy of the throbbing ass from the recent carbuncle removal incident.

Oh, hell, he was back to thinking about asses, especially about McCoy who possessed a fine looking one, indeed.

When in the hell had he done all of that observing of McCoy’s posterior?! Probably forever, he realized, but had never really noticed his interest until now. It was a good thing he’d spent so much time walking beside McCoy on the Enterprise. There had been fewer opportunities of checking out McCoy's butt that way. But there had been those golden chances when McCoy had stalked away in anger. And Spock had thought that he was simply watching McCoy because he was marveling at McCoy’s obstinance and lack of control. Turns out, there had been another interest all along, however latent it had been.

It was also important that McCoy was busy maneuvering the pickup around parked vehicles while he searched for a suitable parking place. He couldn't be observing Spock very closely.

“Well, you don’t have to wait much longer because we’re here. Your moments of anticipation are over,” McCoy announced as he turned off the switch and pulled out the key to slip into his pocket.

McCoy crawled out of the pickup and Spock slid out clumsily. He had other matters on his mind besides being graceful.

“You’re gonna love it here!” McCoy promised as he looked around with excitement.

Spock seriously doubted that. But he loved McCoy, so he was game for anything. Thank goodness, the thoughts of death and destruction had worked their magic on his rampant member. Now just so he could fall back slightly as they walked toward the festivities so he could check out McCoy’s ass.

Down, boy! Just when he thought that that part of him was taking a nap.

“What’s wrong?” McCoy asked. “Did you trip?”

“Leg cramp,” Spock answered as he painfully limped.

“Oh, you've got a Charlie horse. You probably strained some muscles in your eagerness of getting out of the pickup. Here, let me see what I can do,” McCoy offered as he reached for Spock’s leg.

“No!”

McCoy jerked back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just trying to help.”

“I mean, it will be alright now.” But he lied. The urgent tugging was getting stronger again.

Scotty skewered by a native’s lance. Sweet Chekov missing a leg and his boyish face. Gentlemanly Sulu being deprived of what made him a gentleman.

“It is better, thank you. No need to bother yourself,” Spock said as he turned aside in a painful crouch. He was fast becoming the universe's most profuse liar, but that was the price he was willing to forfeit for his dignity.

“But your leg looks all swollen, Spock. You need some help.”

That is not my leg! Spock wanted to yell. A doctor should know that much about anatomy! If you do not, lower your underpants and take a good look at yourself! Then you will see what I have been picturing in my mind and what has been causing me so many problems. 

Spock felt a tug and looked down at himself. Oh, hell! Not again!

The Enterprise ripped asunder with all those on board hurled into space without spacesuits. Their lifeless bodies floating around the universe for eternity. And all hope for their souls’ salvation being unmet because their bodies had not been consecrated by their various religious rites for death. 

“Is that your inner groin?” McCoy asked very close to Spock’s ear.

McCoy was hovering over him!

“Boy, you must’ve really twisted that leg when you got out of the truck.”

Spock wrenched his body around from McCoy’s sight.

Jim Kirk beset by a pack of Martian wolves. Hungry Martian wolves!

“There. Much better,” Spock assured McCoy as he gamely tried to walk without limping. “I simply need to walk on it a little. It is better already.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Yeah, the front of those pants.

“I still think that I should check you out.”

Spock turned aside as McCoy reached toward him and nearly fell.

“Let me see, damn it. I’m a doctor, not a contortionist! I can’t help you if you don’t stand still. I’ve got a gentle touch, remember? You’ve said so plenty of times yourself. I won’t hurt you, damn it! Let me help you!”

McCoy’s hands on his crotch area!

Jim Kirk torn asunder by those savage Martian wolves! Blonde hair stained with Jim's red blood! A man he loved more than himself! Gone!

“What wolves?” McCoy wanted to know with a frown on his face. “And why are they tearing Jim apart? Have you been in the chocolate again? You've been acting awfully strange these last few minutes.”

“There, Grandpa! I said that I saw Mr. Spock, and I did!” Timmy was limping, but game as he rushed up. Gus walked more slowly behind him.

Spock was happy for the distraction. For any distraction that took his mind off McCoy touching him in his swollen area.

Jim Kirk’s head on a pike before a rebel’s castle’s gate! Sharp beaks tearing at those lips which had seduced hundreds! Those glorious eyes, blinded forever!

“What kept you?!” Timmy demanded of Spock and McCoy. “You’re missing all the fun! They’ve already had the egg in the spoon race and a fistfight! Spud Larsen got two teeth knocked out, and his eye's swollen shut! It was great! You shoulda seen it!”

“Mr. Spock had a little accident,” McCoy explained. “He twisted his leg and now it’s swelling on him.”

Timmy limped in front of Spock. “Holy shit! Your leg is swelled way up on you! I bet that’s painin' you something fierce!”

Spock looked up in horror. His eyes swept up over Timmy to collide with Gus's.

Gus looked at Spock with sympathy. For the first time, Spock saw genuine caring in Gus’s eyes for him. Gus’s eyes seemed to be saying that he had found something human to like in Spock, after all. 

“Timmy, why don’t you take Lenny on over to the baseball game," Gus suggested. "It’s about time to start now, I think.”

But Timmy protested. “I wanna wait on Mr. Spock!” 

“Mr. Spock needs some quiet time, Timmy.”

“Aw!”

“You go on over to the ballgame now.”

“Yes, sir,” Timmy said in dejection. He perked up some with the prospects of the upcoming baseball game. “Wanna go with me, Lenny?”

“Sure, why not,” McCoy agreed amiably. He wasn’t too sure what was going on with Spock, but he decided to let Gus handle it. It was obvious that Gus wanted some time with Spock. Maybe he could do better with Spock than he could. Besides, he kinda wanted to watch the game.

“We’ll take it easy, Mr. Spock, until you get to feeling better,” Gus suggested as he fell into step beside the gingerly walking Vulcan.

“Thank you, Mr. Culver. I appreciate your kind consideration,” Spock said with painful breaths.

“You know, I don’t know for sure what you are to Lenny, but I do know that you've had a good effect on him. He’s been a lot more cheerful and interested in life since you showed up.” Gus stopped and gave Spock a thoughtful look. “So that makes you alright in my book.”

“Thank you, sir,” Spock said with a grimace.

“You are obviously important to him, and he is important enough for you to follow him clear to Georgia. Now, why don’t you step into those trees,” he nodded at the Georgia pines behind Spock. “And get rid of that problem that’s got you walking around like a butt-sore cowpoke who’s been riding in the saddle all day since sunup.” He grinned. “Timmy didn’t know the nature of your problem, but I saw right off. Give him a couple of years, then he’ll understand. Then puberty will hit, and he’ll spend the next few years with his top sheet tented most every night. Then the pursuit of ass will drive him as crazy as any other man who's been plagued by it.”

“Yes, sir,” Spock agreed as he grimly looked at the trees.

“Get it over with so you can enjoy the rest of the day. What caused your problem will still be around later so that you can take care of it then. I think that the other party will be interested, too.”

Spock glanced at Gus, uncomprehending. “You do?”

“Yes, I do. I’m not in favor of those things for myself, but I won’t hold it against folks that go along with those ideas. It wasn’t my way. I liked skirts and what filled them out too much.”

It was English that Gus was speaking, but Spock was not understanding what the man was telling him. Oh, Spock knew the words. It was how the man was stringing those words together that wasn’t making any sense. At least the man was not using idioms. Spock supposed that he should be grateful for whatever blessings he received in that area.

Then even that blessing disappeared for Spock.

“So go in those trees, son, and shoot your wad,” Gus urged. “You’ll get immediate relief.”

“Sir?”

“Can’t understand my idiom? Sorry. I’ve heard that Vulcans sometimes have that problem. Just go into the trees, and I’ll stand guard so that you won’t get disturbed. The creek's down there. Ain't nothing much else, except salamanders and snakes."

"Snakes?" Spock looked worried. With all of his other problems, he didn't need to get snake bitten, especially THERE.

"Any snake with any sense at all will be long gone by the time you go crashing through the trees. Go on now and give yourself some relief so you can think about something else. Just grab yourself and think of Lenny’s firm ass inside those tight pants that he likes to wear. Mother Nature should take care of the rest for you just fine.”

Spock’s black eyes blazed as he rushed for the trees. Gus had mentioned McCoy's posterior, so Spock's nether regions went on a rampage again.

Utter destruction of the entire universe! The end of life as we know it! Time caving in on itself! Oblivion!

Spock barely made it inside the trees in time to allow his rampant flesh the release it had been craving. He managed to staunch his scream and to not soil himself with his emissions. Also, he was pleased that he had not ripped his clothing asunder in his haste. That was pure luck, though, and not from any caution on his part. All was well, and his world no longer had a red haze around its edges.

But he bet that there was at least one mad salamander that hadn't been so lucky. Its lady love had been quicker to scurry away, but the male had waited one split second too long to move. And Spock had been in no condition to delay matters any longer for the salamander's benefit.


	6. Y'All Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock gets to see country folks at play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carol Carter's name has been changed to Carrie Carter to avoid confusion with Carol Marcus, the mother of James T. Kirk's son David.

"Hey, you made it!" Timmy exclaimed as Spock slid onto the bleacher beside him. Timmy eagerly made certain that there was enough room to sit for his newfound friend.

"Master Timothy," Spock acknowledged him solemnly. He saw Gus sit down beside McCoy. No way that Spock would sit beside McCoy. His recent embarrassment had badly shaken Spock. His errant body needn't get tempted again by McCoy's nearness. Sitting that closely, perhaps brushing elbows or hips, thinking about those same body parts glistening with water and being scrubbed with a soapy washrag….

Uhura with bruises on her face. Tears in her pretty eyes. Disillusion written on her face. Her will to live gone. Utter, utter despair. Nowhere to turn. Death everywhere. No hope for her, ever again.

Ah, better! The dragon that roared against the blue jeans retreated back into his cave, his fire banked for the moment, hopefully for all night.

McCoy thought it was odd that Spock hadn't sat beside him. Choosing Timmy's companionship really puzzled him.

McCoy bent forward so he could see Spock without blocking Timmy's view of the game. "You're a fast healer."

"Yes," Spock answered, but did not turn his head.

"Gus must be one helluva healer. He'll have to tell me his secret sometime. It must be some hands-on technique that I don't know about."

Spock breathed deeply, but did not answer. McCoy did not know how close to the truth he was with that jab about 'some hands-on technique.'

"Your friend is really fitting in," Gus said conversationally at McCoy's other elbow.

"My friend is crazier than hell, and today he's on a roll," McCoy muttered, annoyed.

Gus chuckled. "Oh, he's alright, Lenny. Just remember that he's trying. He seems to be very sincere. That's the important thing."

"He's trying, alright."

Gus glanced at McCoy. “You sound like you don’t like him very much.”

“Sometimes I don’t,” McCoy growled.

“And other times?” Gus asked kindly.

“Sometimes I do,” McCoy admitted softly.

“I hope those times outweigh the times that you don't.”

“You don’t know how pig-headed and obstinate he can get.”

“Maybe not. But I know you. And I know that you don’t take to too many people.”

McCoy scoffed.

“But you take to this guy,” Gus continued. 

McCoy rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you do. So don’t go denying it. I’ve known you too long. So what’s the problem?”

“It’s too involved to get into here. Besides, he’s got Vulcan hearing. He can have his ears plugged up from a head cold and still can hear a mouse fart on Mars.”

“That’s pretty good hearing!” Gus said with a chuckle.

“Well, maybe I was exaggerating. Maybe he has to have his ears unplugged to hear that well.”

“Lenny, you’ll never change! You’ve still got one helluva imagination! And a tongue sharper than an alligator's tooth!”

“It’s helped me a lot, Gus. It helped me get through some mighty rough spots in my life.”

Gus’s eyes indicated Spock. “And now you’ve got friends to help you through the bad times. And he's mighty special to you. I could tell that right off about him.”

“I don’t know for sure about that, Gus. I don't know about all that business about being special to him.”

“Oh? What’s going on?” Gus asked with a frown.

“I’m not certain. He’s never really said what he’s here.”

“But he’s here, Lenny. Maybe that’s the important thing.”

"I don't know...." McCoy's voice trailed off into uncertainty.

"It's a start, Lenny. Who knows where it will go from here. Keep the faith and trust that good things will happen. We still have today and the promise of tomorrow. A lot can happen if we have a good attitude. There's always the chance that things will work out the way we want. That's why we're alive, Lenny. To let life give us a chance."

Gus meant to encourage McCoy, but McCoy felt let down. He had hoped for so much more from Spock. But Spock was unnaturally quiet. Generally, he had an opinion about everything. Not now, though.

But now he had to put Gus at ease. Gus was worried about him, too. At least this was something that McCoy could do something about.

“Yeah, maybe it is, Gus” McCoy mumbled.

Gus patted McCoy's knee next to him. "There you go. My kids always would listen."

"You always told us good things, Gus. You were always good to us. Kids don't forget that. Adults who used to be those kids don't, either."

"You'll find your way clear through this trial and tribulation, too, Lenny. I just know that you will."

"Thanks, Gus. And thanks for believing in me."

"Hell, Lenny, that was the easy part!" Gus said, trying not to sniffle too loudly from the emotion that he was feeling. "The hard part was remembering not to give you too many pieces of candy on any one day!" Gus laughed and McCoy laughed with him. Then Gus sobered. "It'll work itself out, Lenny. Honest, it will."

It was like McCoy had been given the opportunity to have a discussion with his father. It helped him a lot. Then suddenly, he was through with it. He wanted to change the subject. That was life for you. It never stood still. It was always moving forward, and it must now.

McCoy nodded his head toward Spock and Timmy. “Wonder what they’re talking about so earnestly?”

“Hard telling, Lenny. But I’m going to watch the ballgame and let them have at it.”

“Good idea,” McCoy agreed, then lost himself in the action, like most every other man in the audience.

“So, do you understand the basic rules of the game now, Mr. Spock?” Timmy asked.

“It still looks like the gentleman standing in the center has everyone watching him while he tries to hit another gentleman with a hard, round object. At least the second gentleman has a long stick to try to protect himself from getting struck by whatever is being thrown at him.”

“No!” Timmy hollered half in glee, half in exasperation. “The guy with the stick is trying to hit the ball, not protect himself! The guy with the ball has to throw the ball within a certain area while trying not to give the batter anything good to hit at! That’s the object of the game! See how many times you can hit the ball and run around the diamond so you can score runs!”

“I see a lot of bats where some of the players are seated. What keeps them from grabbing the spare bats and attacking the other team members?”

“Oh, that only happens in major league games. And they generally use just their fists and not their bats. Otherwise, there would be a lot of dead major league players. That'd get expensive real fast.”

“And these gentlemen here do not get into fistfights over the game?”

“They do sometimes, but they’re mainly in it for the fun. Generally, if there’s a fight, it’s because there’s already bad blood between two guys, like if one of them stole the other one’s gal or best coon dog or something like that.”

“Hmm. Fascinating. I appreciate learning the code of ethics of Georgia rural people.”

Timmy twisted around his face. “I don’t know nothing about any code of ethics. That’s just the way that things are done around here.”

“I see. Are the bleachers hard to sit on after your recent surgery?”

“I’ve got an air cushion under me,” Timmy explained.

“Ah, that must help you to feel better.”

“It does.”

“And your language skills have much improved.”

Timmy shrugged. “Oh, that’s because there’s ladies all around us. We have to be careful how we talk when women are around.”

“Ah, so you are a Southern gentleman who protects the delicate sensibilities of your womenfolk by watching your speech patterns.”

“I don’t know about that, neither. But some of these women will grab you by the ear and drag you into the washroom and wash your mouth out with soap. So be careful and don’t let anything bad slip out of your mouth.”

“I will not. Thank you for the warning.”

“I’m worried something fierce about Lenny, though. Grandpa says that Lenny isn’t too careful about his talking when he gets all fired up about something.”

Spock had to agree with Timmy there. Often had Spock heard McCoy declaiming in a spirited rant while not paying any attention about who was in his audience.

Timmy shook his head in worry. “I’d sure hate to see Lenny get his mouth washed out by some woman. That soap can sting your tongue something fierce! And it can loosen your bowels ‘til you think that you’ll never stop crapping!” Timmy slapped his hand over his mouth and looked around in fear. 

Luckily for Timmy, no woman was anywhere in view. 

Most of the women had left the ballgame to start setting covered dishes on rows of picnic tables. They chatted and laughed as they worked. Mostly, they continued conversations started while watching the ballgame. Outside of seeing friends and family members play, the women had attended for the social aspects of the game. 

It was the men who loved the sport. They were natural competitors and enjoyed the camaraderie of being with other men. They loved to flex their muscles for something besides labor while testing themselves against each other. Men would always try to see who was best; women didn’t care. They just wanted the companionship of other women.

That’s why baseball, or any sport, would always remain popular. There was something in it for everyone.

After the ballgame, the audience gradually left the bleachers and formed irregular lines along the picnic tables. They grabbed paper plates and plastic dinnerware, then proceeded to fill their plates from mountains of food while continuing their visiting.

McCoy shuffled along slowly with Spock, Gus, and Timmy.

“Here’s Southern friend chicken, Mr. Spock! You have to have a big juicy leg!”

“No, thank you, Master Timothy. I am a vegetarian.”

Timmy wrinkled his nose. “What does that mean? That you’re a vegetable?”

McCoy snorted behind Spock, but Spock paid him no mind.

“No, it means that I do not eat meats, only fruits and vegetables and breads.”

“You must get awfully hungry for meat then.”

“No, I do not. After awhile, the taste for meats disappears. I do not miss first class protein at all. In fact, I quite healthy.”

“Get your chicken, Timmy,” Gus urged. “You’re holding up the line.”

“I am not eating any more chicken!” Timmy announced.

“What?!” Gus thundered. “What brought that on? You love fried chicken.”

“I’m going to be veggytarian like Mr. Spock!” Timmy further announced.

“That seems a little rash, giving up meat," Gus thought. "You’d better wait until you’re older to decide something like that.”

“I’m old enough!” Timmy declared. “I’m almost twelve!”

“Yeah, in about fourteen months,” Gus muttered.

“I also believe that you should not make a hasty decision, Master Timothy.”

“Why not?”

“You are still growing. You need first class protein to reach your full potential height. Otherwise, you might not grow another inch.”

Timmy’s eyes got big. “Not another inch?”

“Think of it," Spock said. "You would never be taller than the girls. And most sports would be beyond your reach. Literally. The other boys would not only be taller, their arms would also be longer. You would be stunted for life.”

“Gee!” Timmy reached for a piece of chicken. “I’m gonna grow as tall as you, Mr. Spock!” he announced as he took a big bite of chicken. “Chicken is my all-time favorite! I woulda hated to have given it up!” Another hunk of chicken disappeared into his mouth.

“Thanks, Mr. Spock,” Gus said under his breath. “He can get real stubborn when he gets his mind set on something.”

“I did not wish to lead him astray, Mr. Culver.”

“Well, thanks. I do appreciate it.”

At that moment they reached the dessert table. Nurse Carrie Carter was cutting cake and placing slices on small paper plates.

“A slice of cake to finish your meal on a sweet note, Dr. McCoy?” she asked with a smiling and slightly blushing face as if she had been out in the sun too long. She probably had, but a lot of her redness came from her slight embarrassment, also.

“Why, thank you, Carrie,” McCoy said magnanimously. “It looks delicious indeed.”

“Why, thank you, Doctor,” she said as her blush deepened. “I baked it myself.”

“You did? Well, then, that makes it extra special, doesn’t it?” 

Carrie looked down shyly and touched the top button on her blouse.

It could almost be considered to be flirting what he was doing, McCoy decided. But part of it was simply being nice and even chivalrous. She surely couldn’t be taking any of this patter seriously.

Could she?

Brave with her success with McCoy, Carrie handed a cake-filled plate to Spock. Her eyes glowed, and she looked almost beautiful.

“Cake, Mr. Spock?”

Spock studied the food being offered to him.

“It’s carrot,” she informed him as she blushed deeper. “I thought that you might like it, since you’re a vegetarian.”

McCoy, who was watching the exchange, could not see the logic in her argument. If McCoy was confused, how puzzled could Spock be? Most cakes did not contain any meat, unless the baker was using mincemeat. And mincemeat really had no meat in it anymore, unless beef suet was used in the mixture.

Spock stood there as if frozen. It was easy to see that he did not want the cake, but he did not wish to insult Carter, either.

Carrie touched the short hair along her the back of her neck and gave Spock a coy look. “It won’t hurt you, Mr. Spock. I promise.”

Why, she’s flirting with him, McCoy realized. And she’s being as blatant and as open about it as Chapel was when she made plomeek soup for Spock. And she’s going to have as much success as Christine did. I’d nearly bet on it.

“I appreciate your consideration, Miss Carter,” Spock said diplomatically. “And while your cake looks positively tasty, I also do not consume sweets. I will have to decline your kind offer.”

“Oh.” The light seemed to go out of Carter’s eyes. “Well, if you don’t eat sweets, I understand then.”

“I am so sorry, Miss Carter,” Spock apologized.

At least he’s got the decency to do that much after breaking the poor girl’s heart, McCoy thought. It’s obvious that she has a big crush on him. But it won’t get her anywhere, just like it didn’t Christine Chapel.

“I’ll take that piece of cake off your hands, Miss Carter,” Timmy offered eagerly. “I do eat sweets.”

Carter managed a smile, and her eyes looked kindly at the child. “I hope that you enjoy it, Timmy. It was made with love.” She glanced up at Spock through her eyelashes.

“Oh, well, it should be extra sweet then, shouldn’t it?” Gus spoke up. “I’ll take a slice of that cake, too, Carrie, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to be wondering what Timmy was bragging about later on now, would I?”

“Here you are, Gus,” Carrie said through her tears, but happy that Gus and Timmy had saved her from further embarrassment.

 

After they had eaten, they settled down to listen to the music. The long summer dusk had closed around them and lanterns provided an oasis of light in the gathering darkness as the music floated around them.

Spock realized that a lot of the music had also settled down into the style known as ballad. Country music had changed little in the style of story that it told. Tales of inner suffering were classic and would never grow old. Human beings would continue to suffer, no matter what.

At one point, McCoy jumped to his feet. “Dance with me, Spock!”

Spock looked up, stunned. “What?”

“Dance with me!” McCoy hissed. “Now!”

Spock complied. As he folded his arms around McCoy, he decided that the evening had suddenly gotten better for him. Outside of an accidental brushing of hands or bodies, this was more than he had touched McCoy during his visit.

Then as they danced to the slow music, Spock became aware that McCoy’s attention was elsewhere. At one point, McCoy even grimaced as he looked at something behind Spock’s right shoulder.

“Is there a problem, Doctor?” Spock finally asked.

“I’m worried about a friend,” McCoy mumbled in his distraction. 

“So am I,” Spock quipped. "Especially now."

McCoy snapped his attention back to Spock, then he looked surprised as if he was seeing Spock for the first time. McCoy smiled as his eyes flickered over the craggy, yet kindly face before him. The two stared transfixed at each other for a few moments.

“Yeah, you would be concerned," McCoy decided. "You’d know exactly what I’m talking about, too, wouldn’t you? Thanks for putting up with my nonsense.”

“What happened, anyway? Why did you suddenly wish to dance?”

“I saw Carrie Carter headed our way. I’d almost bet that she was gonna ask one of us to dance.”

Spock frowned slightly. “Which one?”

McCoy shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably whichever one of us paid her the most attention. She must've felt brave enough to ask. And we’d have to accept.”

“And that would be bad?”

“No. Not now. But she’d be setting herself up for heartbreak later on.”

"A moment ago, you were concerned about her."

“I saw her talking to that Hyatt guy,” McCoy said with a frown.

“And that is a bad thing?”

“It will be for Carrie. Hyatt is out for a fast time, then he’d move on. He doesn’t have anything permanent in mind with her or any other girl.” He craned his neck. “Oh, good, she’s left him and is talking to some women now."

“Tell me about this song being played.”

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about the song being played," Spock insisted, wanting attention. "I know very little about country-western music. And I suspect that most of the people attending could name the artist and the song quite easily."

“Oh, that's 'Waltz Across Texas.’ It's an old Ernest Tubb song. And you're right. It's an old country-western standard. It goes back several hundred years, but it will never grow old.” 

McCoy thought about the lyrics and was happy that the band was playing the song as an instrumental. Then, of course, a guy stepped up to the microphone. He was young and dressed in buckskins and probably had no idea what the song could possibly mean to lovers. Then the guy started singing the words and sold the song. It was if the singer had lived the message in the song.

Spock would have to be dumb as a post to miss what the lyrics could mean to McCoy. And Spock was not dumb.

But McCoy couldn't run. Not now. He just had to stay in Spock's arms and bluff this one out. But he doubted that he could.

“When we dance together my world’s in disguise  
"It’s a fairyland tale that’s come true  
"And when you look at me with those stars in your eyes  
"I could waltz across Texas with you.’”

The singer swung into the chorus, which was basically a repeat of the last line he’d sung.

“Interesting lyrics,” Spock noted as he pulled his arm tighter around McCoy.

“Uh-huh,” McCoy agreed as he felt himself pressed against Spock’s hard chest. He couldn’t have said any more if his life depended upon it. He was having a difficult time breathing, let alone having to form coherent sentences.

And, of course, the boy singer couldn't end the song there. He had to sing the second verse.

“My heartaches and troubles are just up and gone  
"The moment that you come in view  
"And when you look at me with those stars in your eyes  
"I could waltz across Texas with you.’”

Spock whirled McCoy around in a tight circle that was faster than the music. All thought escaped McCoy except to hang on. Then Spock slowed again for the chorus so that McCoy would miss nothing of the song's meaning.

“Waltz across Texas with you in my arms  
"Waltz across Texas with yourself  
"Like a storybook ending I’m lost in your charms  
"I could waltz across Texas with you.’”

McCoy could not remember the rest of the evening. He could not remember telling people goodnight. He could not remember driving back to the farmhouse. He could not even remember what he said to Spock, if anything, on their way home. All he remembered was standing in the harsh light of the living room and staring a hole in Spock.

“Good night, Doctor,” Spock finally said.

“Good night, Spock,” McCoy mumbled and watched Spock go into his quarters on the other side of the house.

For a long time McCoy stared at the door that Spock had used to leave. Then McCoy nestled his warm face against the coolness of the door, spread his fingers on the door beside his face, and closed his eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, he remained that way until the door no longer felt cool under his burning skin. 

Then he squeezed his eyes tightly together as his lips formed a heart-rending word.

“Spock....”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of the song "Waltz Across Texas", nor anything of the estate of the late Ernest Tubb.


	7. Have I Been Too Long At The Fair?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the happy times, for they may not last long.
> 
>  
> 
>  

McCoy awoke the next morning feeling better than when he had finally gotten to sleep. Such is the resiliency of human nature and the restorative value of a sunshiny day. He’d heard it storming in the night, so the air would be washed clean this morning. Another reason for being happy about a new day. 

All of that helped to pep him up until he turned over and saw what time it was. Oh, hell, he’d overslept! And that night owl Spock who needed less sleep than an Earthling had probably been awake long before any roosters had announced the coming day. 

McCoy shot out of bed and hit the shower. He pulled on fresh blue jeans and a cotton T-shirt, then hurried toward the kitchen while still toweling his hair dry. Dang it, he could still feel damp places under his clothing that he’d missed with his towel. Oh, well, couldn’t be helped. He’d just have to air dry.

McCoy breathlessly rounded the corner into the kitchen. Sure enough, there sat Spock at the wooden dinette table with his back halfway turned so he could look out the window at his shoulder but still watch the door through which McCoy had just entered. At this moment, he was giving McCoy a judgmental, unblinking stare that was just under the level for being reproachful.

“Mr. Spock!” McCoy greeted over jovially as he showed all of his teeth, even the rarely seen molars. He hoped that he blinded the irascible Vulcan with his glittering toothpaste smile.

But Spock was unimpressed. “Dr. McCoy, you overslept.”

“Well, I hadn’t planned on it,” McCoy said self-consciously as he allowed the damp towel to drop to his shoulders. It felt like a sodden heap around his neck, but that was only one of the damp places that he was noticing around his neck. He must’ve jumped into his clothing dripping wet. If he’d stayed barefooted, he would’ve left tracks from his bedroom. As if was, it was a wonder that his shoes didn’t squeak from the wet feet inside them.

“You should’ve awakened me,” he muttered as he walked to the stove. “I’ll make us some breakfast.” He stopped. “Oh, you’ve made coffee already, I see.”

“I am not without my domestic skills, Doctor,” Spock supplied airily. “I watched how you have done it for several mornings. I am what you might call ‘a quick study’ in the kitchen. I occasionally like to dabble with the culinary arts with a great deal of success, I might add.”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head,” McCoy muttered. “There’s more to cooking than making coffee.” He paused when he saw the covered skillet on the stove. His nose told him what it contained. “You scrambled eggs, I see, and are keeping them warm.”

“I more than scrambled them, Doctor,” Spock answered in a voice that was almost bored. “You will find that they are Swiss shirred eggs which may be served over the garlicky greens in the other pan. You may toast and butter your own bread to go with them.”

“What?! You didn’t bake the bread and churn the butter, too?”

“Your humor escapes me this morning, Doctor.” He frowned at McCoy. “Moisture from your head is dripping on the stove. Is there a reason for that?”

“It means I didn’t towel off very well after my shower,” McCoy grumbled as he grabbed the towel and began to vigorously rub his head. “I was in a hurry to get in here and fix breakfast for my house guest.” He stopped rubbing and glared at Spock. His drying hair spiked every which way on his head. “In fact, I’m still pretty wet all over. As if that would make any impression on you,” he muttered as he attacked his hair with the soggy towel again.

But that was where McCoy was wrong. His dampness was making quite an impression on Spock. Quite a marked one, in fact. Spock’s eyes then sought out confirmation of McCoy’s suspected further dampness. Yup, there it was alright. Denim and cotton clothing were clinging to McCoy like a new outer skin. And were disclosing an interesting bump where Spock knew that one should be located.

All of these facts began to register in Spock’s brain. And then his nether regions awakened to McCoy’s condition. Damp clothing clinging to McCoy’s still damp skin. All of that naked skin, wet again. Slippery. Cool to the touch. Beckoning. Waiting. Willing.

Spock noted a familiar tug in his nether regions. The son and heir was awakening and climbing out of his cozy little hidey hole. Rapidly.

Oh, hell, not again!

He’d always heard about ‘the morning thing’ and what a terror it could be. Somehow, passion should be a nighttime thing experienced in the dark, not in bright morning sunshine. How could anyone even be interested in doing something like that at that day of the day? Besides, it didn't seem appropriate, somehow. But appropriate or not, he was about to experience it.

This was not good news. There was no handy Georgia pine grove available, nor an accommodating Gus to stand guard and run interference in case Spock was about to get unwanted company. Nope, Spock was on his own. And his prospects for nondisclosure didn't look very good. What a way to start a morning! And McCoy thought that he had problems!

Spock turned toward the window and tried to imagine the green lawn before him covered with the broken and mutilated bodies of his friends from the Enterprise. There was Kirk with all of that blonde hair drenched with clotted red blood and spattered brain matter. Uhura and Chapel lay stripped naked and brutally raped. Chekov and Sulu were clinging to each other in death, a single lance skewering both of their bodies. Scotty's face was eternally frozen in the horrible knowledge of his own death. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, Jim Kirk seemed to be transmitting telepathically to Spock. We’re the good guys. We’re supposed to live to fight another day. We're not supposed to die like ordinary people.

Spock turned back to the kitchen, the fires in his nether regions momentarily banked.

“What the hell are you looking at out there? You’re as white as a sheet, and that’s probably hard for a Vulcan to do.”

“Nothing. Images,” Spock amended at an attempt at the truth. “Things that must never be.”

“Images, eh? Well, we can’t have that, can we? Tell you what. You just need some different images.” And with that, he dropped the soggy towel to his hips and began an exotic hoochie coochie dance for Spock. He thrust one side of his pelvis forward, then began a sexy shimmy with erotic bumps and grinds.

Spock jerked upright and so did his little buddy in his nether regions. "Doctor! What are you doing?! Are you having some sort of fit?!"

"Therapy," McCoy answered with a grin as things on him jerked and jiggled that ordinarily don't jerk and jiggle. He accompanied himself with low growls, ragged humming, and sharp yips that he thought would be appropriate for his rhythmic gyrations.

Spock simply thought that McCoy looked and sounded like some guy trying to get some bathroom action after three days of being constipated.

"Relax," McCoy advised the startled Vulcan who wore an unexplained grimace on his face as if he had undisclosed problems of which McCoy was unaware. "Enjoy the show. You'll thank me later."

Spock doubted that, but he had no realistic excuse to leave. McCoy might tease him for being a ninny. So Spock remained where he was seated.

As McCoy undulated his shoulders and wiggled his hips while scrubbing his butt with the towel, Spock didn’t want to watch, but he could not seem to draw his eyes away from McCoy’s contortions. As McCoy realized Spock’s mesmerization, he turned his back, bent at the waist, and wiggled his butt at him in exaggeration. From over his shoulder, McCoy grinned as he saw Spock’s eyes pop. It was a saddle's view of a cowboy's ass, and now Spock had seen McCoy presenting his rump as apes in heat in the jungle do for each other. It was a view that Spock had never imagined that he would see, least of all at the breakfast table.

At one point Spock crossed his legs in desperation to try to contain the enthusiasm of his little buddy, but that just caused some interesting thumps in his britches. He wondered if clothing could wear out from the inside, for these blue jeans were going to be given every opportunity to do so.

Then Spock turned his head toward the devastation awaiting him on the lawn that would help ground him once more. Alas, that protection was no longer afforded him. His friends from the Enterprise crew were alive and well and grinning at him. They stood there with stupid grins on their faces and seemed to be encouraging him and wishing him well with McCoy. And Captain Kirk, his best friend Captain Kirk, was the worst one of all. Lust and wickedness gleamed from those knowing, intelligent eyes. Spock would find no help there, least of all from Kirk.

Spock looked back to McCoy who was holding the towel high behind his head and slowly twisting his hips to music that only he could hear. His eyes were closed in ecstasy. Spock knew that his own body would soon be answering McCoy in his ecstasy. For how could Spock keep seated in the light of this sensuous presentation? He was a man of flesh, after all. And his flesh was yearning for the exquisite flesh performing before him. All he had to do was stand up and touch it. Mother Nature and long overdue urges would take care of the rest.

McCoy shimmied as he turned his back on Spock. A dreamy look was on his face as he continued to hold the towel high. His shoes were squeaking like hell, but he had seduction on his mind. Prudence, and wet feet, be damned. Those shirred eggs were gonna get cold before they were eaten now. Probably kingdoms would rise and fall, too. He didn’t care, as long as he prodded the Vulcan into action.

McCoy opened his eyes and stopped dead still. The hands holding the towel over his head slowly came down.

"Uh, hi, Len," a strange voice said.

Spock twisted his head so he could see, also. No wonder McCoy had stopped so suddenly. A barrel-chested man with a fedora hat on his head and a shit-eating look on his face was standing inside the backdoor.

“I did knock, Len,” the man said in way of apology. “You apparently, uh, had some music going that I couldn’t hear.”

"Oh, hi, Doug. Just drying off." McCoy let the towel slide into one hand.

"Interesting technique," their guest noted, beginning to redden on his fair face. "I'll have to try that sometime when Julie isn't around. Otherwise, one of us might not live through the experience. She might die laughing. Or I might die from trying to satisfy her. Least of all, she might harangue at me for false advertising. Just between you and me, I've put in twenty-four wonderful years with that woman. And I want to put in a few more with her. I don't think that either one of us could break in a new partner at this stage of the game. Know what I mean?"

McCoy didn't, not with his track record with relationships. But he wasn't about to ask for details at that time of the morning, not from a guy who was getting redder in the face and more embarrassed the longer that he talked.

McCoy moved toward the stove and tried to act natural. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks." The social amenity helped to ground the big man, and a lot of the dusky color faded from his face. "I can't stay here long."

"Doug, you remember Mr. Spock," McCoy indicated with a slight nod over his shoulder in way of introduction. "We served together in Star Fleet."

"Oh, yeah. Sure do." Doug glanced around McCoy and touched his fingers to his hat in salute. “Howdy do.”

Spock nodded solemnly, but did not uncross his legs. He thought it prudent to remain so seated. The crew of the Enterprise had finally failed him; now he had to rely on the squeezing together of his legs. That proved to have its advantages. And its disadvantages, too, he quickly realized.

“Doug, you’re out and about mighty early,” McCoy said as if nothing embarrassing had just happened. “Something going on in the vet world?”

“I’ve been up half the night over at the main place with a cow trying to calve. She’s a yearling and I finally had to pull the calf with pulleys and chains. I'm happy to report that mother and daughter are doing fine,” he added with a smile.

Spock was stunned. That sounded like brutal treatment to use on a cow that was already in misery from not being able to drop her calf. McCoy did not seem unduly alarmed, so maybe the method was standard procedure for veterinarians. It still sounded harsh to Spock, though.

“I just thought that I’d stop and remind you about the Denton County Fair over at Bixby. Your friend and you might want to take it in.” His face clearly indicated that Doug wanted to add, ‘unless you two can find something else more interesting to do at home, like dancing for each other.’

“Thanks, Doug, we just might do that. Thanks for stopping by,” McCoy said with clear dismissal.

Doug touched his fingers to his fedora at McCoy, then Spock, then left quickly before he burst out laughing.

McCoy turned with horror on his face. “My life is ruined! Vets are the worst gossips on the planet! Gives them something to do while waiting on some animal to give birth or to decide to live or not! What will I ever do to live this down?!” His eyes squinted shut in panic.

But for once, antisocial Spock knew the right answer. He stood, his nether regions no longer on alert. “We will go to the fair.”

McCoy opened his eyes in surprise. “What?”

“We will go to the fair and we will have a good time. And we will look the world in its smirking face.”

McCoy grinned. “I’ll be damned if you ain’t right! Denton County, get your fair ready! We’re on our way!” He looked at Spock and nodded. “And we’re going to have a good time.”

And they did.

 

“Well, Spock, what do you think of a midway?!” McCoy shouted over the noise of carnival rides and people walking around them.

“It looks like the party we went to last night, except without the games and the band,” Spock said as he looked around at the milling crowd. “There seems to be more people, too. And the amusement rides are exciting to watch.”

“How about the tent with the display of canned goods we saw? The fresh fruits and vegetables? The baked goods?”

“It reminded me that I was hungry.”

McCoy grinned. “That produce wasn’t for consumption. You saw that some of the displays had colored ribbons on them?”

“Yes.”

“Their owners were competing for prizes. Cash goes to the winners, and they get to take their displays to the North Georgia State Fair in Marietta at the end of September. Marietta is a suburb of Atlanta, so that makes it handy if you got other business in Atlanta. If you’ve got time, that is. The fair can keep you busy with all of its displays and entertainment.”

“So this county fair is a miniature version of the State Fair. A preview, if you will.”

McCoy squinted in the sunlight as he grinned at Spock. “Well, yeah, you might say that. So, what’s next? After we grab a bite of food first so you don’t keel over in a dead faint, that is. The animal barn? I didn’t know if you’d want to see inside of it. Being vegetarian and all.”

“Why not? I do not intend to eat the animals. Simply to look at them.”

McCoy shrugged. “Well, you got a good point there. Let’s stop at this concession stand. They deep fry about anything, including birthday cake and a stick of butter.”

Spock looked bilious. “Could we find something less exotic? I do not need to consume such greasy and calorie-laden foods to enjoy the fair experience. In fact, I would probably be more active and alert on a simpler diet.”

“You’re right again. Come on, let’s hunt up some fruits and vegetables. I might chase it down with a chili cheese dog and fries. Hey, you could have cheesy fries! They wouldn’t break any dietary rules for you, and you could get the fair experience, too!”

So that’s what they ate, plus munching down several rigs of celery and a couple candied apples. By then, they were ready to take on the animal barn. Spock was impressed by the variety of animals that were grown in Georgia and remarked about it as they left the display area.

“I did not realize that llamas and alpacas were raised in Georgia.”

“There are herds of them all over the States. They are raised for their wool. They make good pets, too.”

“Are any of them used for food?”

McCoy shrugged. “I suppose.”

Spock shuddered. “Such magnificent animals to come to such a sad end.”

“Farmers don’t raise food animals as pets. Most of them go down the gullet at some time or other, either at the home place or on someone else's table.”

“I suppose that one has to be realistic about the fate of animals.”

“Look at it this way, Spock. Raising animals ensures the survival of the breed. Few animals could survive on their own in the wild anymore. Most of them would be devoured by four-legged carnivores.”

“Well, I suppose that is true.”

“Where to now?” McCoy said, trying to perk Spock up from the fate of food animals. “How about the carnival rides? You seemed interested in them before.”

Spock brought himself out of it. “The Ferris wheel,” he answered with shining eyes. “I would like to ride that and look down on the crowds.”

McCoy blanched, and Spock looked at him with concern.

“A problem, Doctor?”

“The Ferris wheel is so tall.”

“The average Ferris wheel is only sixty-three feet tall. That is not tall at all, compared to where you have been in space.”

“I don’t care,” McCoy said suspiciously as he eyed the Ferris wheel looming above them. “It still looks menacing.” He saw how crestfallen that Spock looked, though. “Okay, I’ll go for a ride on it with you. But you gotta promise not to rock the car.”

“I will keep the car very steady for you,” Spock assured McCoy, and he did.

It was probably an odd spectacle to see how the two men rode the Ferris wheel. One sat forward and one leaned back while both held onto the hand bar. That way they indeed held the car so it did not rock. And Spock even got to thrill to the sight of people and fair displays far below them. McCoy didn't. He had his eyes riveted to the floor of the car and did not see much else on his carnival ride.

But McCoy was still unnerved at the height. At one point, he reached over and gripped the top of Spock's hand with his own. That's when intergalactic Spock saw stars in the daytime. Hundreds of them, thousands of them. Whirling and twirling and putting on a light display that Spock could not see around or through. Of course, the red haze at the edges of Spock's range of vision was no help, either. In fact, if it continued with its steady creeping toward his iris, Spock's whole world was going to look like he lived inside a lighted Chinese lantern. A red Chinese lantern.

Of course, he would not have taken his other hand and used it to dislodge the claw of McCoy's hand from the back of his own. For one thing, it might have broken the delicate balance and caused the car to have rocked. That would have done McCoy's nerves no good and might even have caused him to squeal like a girl. For another thing, removing McCoy's hand from his own might break McCoy's faith in Spock. McCoy trusted Spock to protect him. And Spock always would do that, if he could.

Although, truth be told, if the car began rocking, Spock was going to be as subject to Newton's Laws of Motion and the force of gravity as anyone else. And sixty-three feet up on a Ferris wheel was not like being sixty-three miles up in the Enterprise. At some point, probably at the edge of Earth's magnetic pull at the exosphere, 'up' ceases to exist. Then distances just become 'out' and are recorded in light years.

If Spock had a preference in regards to his and McCoy's current situation (and he really didn't unless he could perform a helluva juggling act that could get him a job in this carnival), he would pull McCoy to him so McCoy could hide his face in Spock's chest and cling to him as if his very life depended on it. At this point, McCoy would probably be thinking that very thing.

But Spock couldn't perform that kind of feat, even with his strength, so he and McCoy lasted out their Ferris wheel ride with neither one of them seeing very much. McCoy had his view of the dirty floor of the car where smelly traces indicated that at least two people had recently vomited onto it. And Spock had his worldview of whirling stars framed in an advancing framework of red. Lovely, but not what he'd paid for. Somewhere, sixty-three below them, was a midway filled with wondrous sights and interesting people, but neither one of them was aware of anything outside of their tiny car.

But the ride finally stopped and they alit, staggering a little and happy to be on the ground once more. Just like a damn spaceship, McCoy thought, but didn't share his theory. Spock would've probably just rolled his eyes and sighed deeply at him.

 

They left the fair in mid-afternoon with cotton candy sticks in their hands. Traffic was light headed away from the fair as most traffic was going toward the fair for the evening’s activities. A program with country music and a magician would be offered after dark, and most people were interested in those entertainment venues.

But Spock and McCoy were tired. After partying most of the last twenty-four hours, they were ready for some quiet time. They needed to give themselves, and their ears, a rest from all of the noise which had been bombarding them.

"I have been mistaken, Doctor. Rural areas have more social life than I realized," Spock noted as they rode back toward McCoy's house late that afternoon in McCoy's old pickup truck. "I really enjoyed these past few days."

McCoy grinned. "We're just getting to you, that's all." He gave Spock a lazy smile. "You just had to give us a chance to show you."

"Well, I have been delighted with all of these places we have visited. The locals are quite charming and not at all backward. Many of them are quite cosmopolitan, in fact, with unique and widely varied interests. I was amazed to learn how individualistic that these people were."

"They're just like people everywhere," McCoy said. "Get any group of people together, and it's amazing what you'll find out about them. They have a variety of talents and hobbies and personal traits. We know that to be true about the crew of the Enterprise."

"Yes, we do have a unique group of people as crew, do we not? I found myself comparing them to the people whom I was meeting in Georgia. I will probably amuse myself for a long time with comparisons between the two groups. I cannot wait to tell Jim about all of my experiences when I meet him in San Francisco."

Spock kept chattering away, but McCoy was suddenly stunned. Spock was leaving! Soon! He'd forgotten how soon it would be!

"Jim will be fascinated with all that I have to tell him. He will be most happy with the news that you are getting along so well."

McCoy couldn't believe it! Spock was leaving! And yet he had known that Spock's time here would be short.

"Will you be able to take me to the air terminal in Atlanta, Doctor?" Spock asked in the sudden quiet. "Will that be a problem?"

"What? No, no, that will be perfectly fine."

"If that will be a problem, I could make different arrangements for my transportation."

"Nonsense. Think no more of it. Your departure had just slipped my mind, that's all. Look there," McCoy said, pointing toward a distant barn. "There's the barn where that new calf is being housed. The one that Doug was telling us about this morning?”

This morning! That had been just this morning!

"I think I'm going to lie down for a little while," McCoy managed to tell Spock as they entered the house. Spock made no comment that McCoy remembered. Fatigue was catching up with both of them.

McCoy made it at last to the privacy of his bedroom. His head whirled with exhaustion and grief.

Spock was leaving!

Fully clothed, he huddled in the fetal position on top of his bed and crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to give himself some comfort.

But no comfort came.

If only the tears would fall, but that relief was not to be his, either.

Then, for the second time in twenty-four hours, that one sacred word shook his frame as a silent scream echoed through his mind.

‘Spock!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for McCoy's hoochie coochie dance was a YouTube video of Suzie Sequin dancing "Hoochie Coochie Girl," a classic Victorian burlesque.
> 
> I own nothing of YouTube or of the video "Hooche Coochie Girl" by Suzie Sequin. Nor do I represent Suzie Sequin or own any part of her franchise.


	8. The Right-Veering Ogre And The Damsel In Distress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy is numb with the reality of Spock's leaving, and it's bothering his sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Esperata for mentioning fairy tales.

It was so strange, but it was a story as old as time, too. If McCoy could only get the straights of it. It was something about a damsel in distress in a wooded glen. A horrible ogre was trying to convince her to live with him in his castle high on the slope of a distant icy mountain peak. But the young maiden was having none of his nonsense. She was holding out for a handsome prince, or at least the handsome son of village blacksmith. Jock had rippling muscles in his arms and the promise of other things rippling in his tight trousers. The ogre had nothing but one eye high above the other and shaggy hair bristling all around his face and a disgusting hunchback. It was anybody’s guess as to if he had any goodies hidden in his trousers, rippling or otherwise.

At least the one high eye was on the same side of the ogre’s body as his misshapen hunchback. It made him look like he was forever walking on tiptoes on his right side, though. It also tended to make him list slightly to the right as he walked. So he always had to gauge his path to make allowances for this elliptical curve that he was bound to make. It was very disconcerting for anyone trying to avoid the fearsome looking ogre, though. For no matter how someone might try to avoid him, they were bound to cross paths with him somewhere. Given enough time, he would eventually snarl the transportation systems of the world by confusing everyone.

The ogre had to be particularly careful in getting back to his castle high on the mountaintop. He could tell that he was ascending because the air was getting colder, but that was the least of his worries. He couldn’t take a straight path as most mountain dwellers did for he ran the risk of walking off the mountain at any time. With his weak eyesight, he could not see the edge of the cliff. To avoid any such tragic endings, the ogre had devised the plan of walking rings around the mountain in order to reach his home. He would walk in ever narrowing circles, and the hump side of his body would gradually propel him to the right and up. Once he made the mistake of leading to the left, but he realized his mistake when he quickly became entangled in a thicket of pine trees which grew at the foot of the icy mountain.

It took him ten times as long to reach the mountain summit using this method, but he built strong muscles in his legs. Still, he was not frivolous with his trips down the mountain. For instance, he was not inclined to run out for a pizza. For one thing, he’d never heard of pizza. And for another, he didn’t care for spicy food. He generally would make that fact known whenever he graced the village restaurant with his presence. He really was a despicable bore and a disagreeable sort all the way around. He wasn’t even a handsome prince in disguise, for no self-respecting witch would ever claim to have enchanted him. Witches do have their standards, you know.

The damsel was no prize herself with that wart hanging off the tip of her hooked nose and that braying laughter of hers that could crack tempered-steel swords in two if she got too tickled about something. But the weak-sighted ogre could not see that blemish on her beauty. And he had not had the opportunity to hear her laughter as he had just abducted her, and she was not in a light-hearted mood for some reason. The son of the village blacksmith had excellent eyesight and good hearing, though, and wanted no part of her. Conceited Jock wanted someone to match his own beauty, for nobody outshone his. The damsel should have settled for the ogre. He was willing to marry her. Conceited Jock wanted someone who was a reflection of himself. That happens when you’re in love with yourself as Jock was.

The damsel had yearned for a handsome man who would cater to her every wish and would take her off to live with him in his fairy tale kingdom. That was was her heart’s desire, but she would settle for Jock the son of the village blacksmith if need be. She was such a fickle thing, but then ‘fair’ damsels had a right to be, she figured. It was all such a bore. Men, and their rippling trousers.

So she lived in the illusion of a thrilling tryst with a handsome prince or Jock, whichever arrived first. But she had inadvertently fallen into the ogre’s hands. Literally. It was purely an accident. The ogre was in no way responsible for her capture. She had been out riding on her sweet palfrey and had slid off the back of her horse to land at the ogre’s feet. She had been too stunned by the fall to orient herself, and the ogre had captured her by default. It was like a pitcher throwing a baseball and hitting the batter’s bat by accident. It still counted as a base hit even if the bat hadn't moved.

And now the ogre was trying to convince her to come away with him, but she was more interested in the smudges on her best suede riding gloves. Then a seemingly demented woodpecker started hammering into the tree above them like there was no tomorrow and the tree needed holes drilled all over its trunk by nightfall. Really, it was a beastly racket and irritated the damsel in distress and the ogre as well as McCoy who was taking in this whole crazy scenario as an unwilling, but fascinated audience. He was curious to see if the ogre could get the damsel led up the mountain, if and when he finally convinced her to go with him. Or if she would get bored by all of that constant circling and veering to the right of his and just return to her parents. Really, she had the attention span of a hummingbird and would probably fall off the mountain simply because she wasn't watching where she was going. She didn't even have the excuses of poor eyesight or constantly veering to the right whenever she walked.

Neither one of them was a safe bet for a happy marriage. McCoy seriously doubted if they could make their way up the mountain, let along to the castle chapel to participate in holy nuptials. Probably her maidenhead and whatever the ogre had rippling in his trousers were both quite safe. Sure money was saying that the marriage bed would remain chaste, if indeed the mismatched couple ever made it that far.

The knock came so softly that McCoy thought that it was part of a dream, that the woodpecker was finally getting some consideration for others without his determination. And then McCoy knew that it was part of a dream, his dream about the ogre and the damsel and an interfering woodpecker that proved to be Vulcan.

McCoy stumbled to his bedroom door with irregular steps and bleary eyes. He opened the door and realized that he must look a sight by the startled look on Spock’s face.

”Yeah?” he mumbled and resisted the urge to scrub his knuckles across his weary eyes. He had the feeling that his eyes looked blood-shot and that his hair was spiky and stuck out in all directions. He rarely looked this bad, even after a two-week bender. He doubted that even a weak-sighted ogre would be interested in abducting him.

”I wondered if you had fallen asleep, Doctor.”

”Yeah, I must have.”

”I wondered if you intended to eat your evening meal.”

Evening meal?! That must mean that it was nighttime, not morning. McCoy had slept for only a short time, but it must have been deep and heavy. He felt as sluggish as if he’d been trying to climb the ogre’s mountain in the same elliptical path as the ogre had used.

”Oh, yeah, supper,” he mumbled. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

”If you do not wish to eat, I will make something simple for myself. Or I could bring you some hot tea and dry toast--”

”I’ll be out in a minute, okay?” he growled and could hear the grouchiness in his voice. He decided that he needed to be gracious. Spock would be gone soon enough. McCoy better try to be at least civil to him. He turned away. “Just, give me a minute. Okay?”

He heard the door softly close behind him and squeezed his eyes shut in pain.

So Spock was leaving, and they still hadn’t talked. But suddenly that wasn’t as important as McCoy had always thought that it would be to him. The only thing that meant anything to McCoy was that Spock would soon be gone from his life. Again.

And this time, probably for good.

McCoy had known all along that Spock had planned to stay with him for only a week. Their time together had flown by, though, as they had quickly established a routine of work at the medical clinic, stops at the general store, taking in local activities, and a few meals away from the house. It’s difficult to remember that once a routine is established, the pattern of the days speeds up. Weeks quickly become months, months quickly become years. And in this case, days quickly sped into the span of nearly a week.

It had been a relaxed, comfortable time for McCoy, and he often wondered why the relationship between the two of them could not have always been so calm and pleasant. It was like they were learning to know each other all over again. McCoy could have kept up this new routine indefinitely. He had not realized how lonely he’d been until he wasn’t alone anymore. Spock was a great companion. They could confer on medical problems at the clinic, and they even tended to like the same television shows: The History Channel, The Weather Channel, and oddly any children's cartoon show. And Spock's unsuspected culinary skills were a pleasant change from McCoy's hit and miss meals.

Probably part of their peaceful coexistence was that they were not on the Enterprise and advising James T. Kirk about the pros and cons of some ethical dilemma bothering him. That sort of advising dug up differences that might have ordinarily remained buried. Being free of professional duties allowed them to become aware of just how much that they did have in common.

Then, just this afternoon on the way home, Spock had casually mentioned that his time here was coming to a close. McCoy had been so startled by the announcement that he had not replied to it and had quickly changed the subject. But he could not forget it as a cloud of silence descended over him and stayed.

McCoy’s head had buzzed with Spock's upcoming departure all through their supper. He knew that he hadn’t been concentrating on Spock that evening, or even on what he had put on the table for them to share as a meal. McCoy simply knew that he had eaten. His stomach felt pleasantly full of compatible foodstuffs. But McCoy had no idea what he had put into his stomach in the way of nourishment. He'd eaten. Therefore, he would survive to live another day. But WHY he would was a complete bafflement to him.

And it would be just another mechanical day that he would face tomorrow, he now realized. For what else was there in his future but a mindless following of an accepted routine, if Spock was absent. For, although he and Spock had not thrashed things out, McCoy was again used to having Spock being somewhere in his life, no matter how dimly.

After supper, Spock had quietly retired to his quarters, almost as if he was loath to disturb McCoy’s melancholy. McCoy knew that he was being a poor host, but he could not seem to get his social skills in order enough to entertain his guest.

Hell, he couldn’t even entertain himself and proceeded to prove it.

McCoy tried the television to see if anything was good on the History Channel. He and Spock had been watching something recently about the Third World War, but that seemed to be over because McCoy could not find the series any more. In its place was something about space colonies and intergalactic space travel, but McCoy thought that the topic might be a little redundant to him.

Even the cartoon channel failed to hold his attention. He supposed that the cartoons had only been entertaining when he’d been watching them with Spock.

How bored could he get?! He was almost ready to consider going on to bed. Maybe he could find out if the repulsive damsel in distress had finally succumbed to the entreaties of the more repulsive ogre. He’d really like to watch their travels as they tackled that climb back up that icy mountainside. It might almost be more entertaining than a documentary about the Third World War or watching cartoons with Spock.

McCoy soon found himself outside the farmhouse. Maybe the feel of the land would help to settle him down. Maybe the sense that most of this part of the world was settling in for its evening sleep would calm him so that he would be ready for bed himself. But the soft Georgia night wasn’t helping McCoy any. Somehow this world that had always been a sanctuary for McCoy before now seemed alien to him and not welcoming at all. It was like it had judged him to be an outsider now and was turning its back on him. It did not recognize him anymore, and he was beginning to wonder if he recognized himself, either.

Strange how one’s values can change so quickly. Strange how one’s happiness can change so fast and depended on so much. Or so little.

McCoy gazed up into the nighttime skies. The moon would not be rising for hours. All that he could see were the stars. Those were the very stars among which he had once traveled. Those were the same stars that he once thought were alien to him, but they seemed to beckon to him now as if wanting to show him the way home. And somehow, those stars seemed more familiar to him tonight than the Georgia land all around him. That land had always meant home before, but circumstances seemed to have changed. Were the stars now more his home than Georgia? Was that where his heart’s home now lay?

Perhaps it was because Spock was going back to traveling among those stars that made them seem so comfortable and welcoming to McCoy. And for that reason, he felt that he could pour out his heart to them as if they would understand him. It was as if the stars were all the parts of Spock scattered around the heavens. He could tell the stars what he could never have told Spock to his face. He could never tell him the simple, honest truth of his feelings for the man who was still his old friend, despite everything.

“I’m going to miss you, you know. I know what you’d say to that. That’s like missing a toothache. But I’m kinda used to you now and I’ve enjoyed having you here with me. And I’m going to hate it like hell when you leave.” He frowned slightly. “But you'll never hear it from me. I’d be too embarrassed to say it, and you’d be too embarrassed to hear it. Guys don’t say things like that to other guys, but right now I wish that guys didn’t have to go along with that rule. But I mean it when I say that I enjoy having you around. I really do.”

That felt pretty good to say out loud, so McCoy tried some more.

“Why shouldn’t I like having you around? You’re entertaining as hell. I never know what’s gonna come popping outa that condescending mouth next.” He frowned. “But I should get serious about this, shouldn’t I? Because we’re talking about serious stuff here.” His frown deepened. “Permanent partings. Nevermores. You can’t get any more serious than that.”

”I suppose that this is the point where I should tell you a few things that I think that you should know, things that I’ve neglected to say, but things that you should know about. You’ve got so many qualities that I admire. I’ve never told you that before, but I do admire you. I’ve always loved your determination, your humanity, and your loyalty, for starters." He grinned. "I even love your piss-ant attitude, even if I told you otherwise." He sobered again. "I love so many things about you, but you've never wanted to hear about any of that, have you?" He pursed his lips. "But it’s true, all true. Spending these past few days with you, sharing this simple life with its simple pleasures, knowing where you’d be at every moment, I don’t want that to end. But I know that can never happen.”

McCoy heard the whisper of something, like clothing moving. He turned and stared at Spock. “You heard.”

“I am sorry. I did not intend to invade your privacy.”

“And once again I’ve embarrassed the hell outa me, and you. I'm sorry. I've got feelings. I emote."

"I heard you talking and wondered if someone was out here with you."

"Just me, communing with the stars. They're marvelous listeners, you know?" He knew he was being bitchy, but he couldn't help himself. 

"I wondered where you were, Doctor."

McCoy smirked. "Can't have me wandering off now, can we? Hard telling what harm I might do to myself." He could hear the hint of venom in his own voice. It reminded him of something. Then the memory of Spock's feisty attitude at the Atlanta airport flashed through McCoy's mind. Had that actually been a defensive tactic because Spock was unsure of himself, as McCoy was unsure of himself now?

"You should come back inside now. It is getting late."

"Don't worry. I can take care of myself." Couldn't have a worried Vulcan thinking that he'd gone ape-shit while he was out communing with the stars, either, could we? "Why don't you go on to bed, and I'll see you tomorrow. You'll probably want to get up early so you can get your gear all packed up."

"I would rather that you came inside, so I will know that you are safe."

They stared at each other in a battle of wills.

But Spock was insistent. "It will not take me long to pack my gear tomorrow." Spock held the door open. "Doctor?"

McCoy roughly jerked the door out of Spock's hands. It was lucky that Spock pulled his head back as quickly as he did, or he'd gotten his face scraped by the doorframe flying past him.

"If you don't mind, it's my damn door," McCoy muttered in a querulous voice. "I can still remember how to use the damn thing. I'm not that far out of it. I'm not quite ready for the rubber room yet. If and when that time comes, I'll make sure that you're informed of the fact. Until then, I can still run this end of things. Okay?"

Spock raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, but allowed the pushy owner of the door to operate it.

Spock did not mind. He may have lost the skirmish, but he was winning the battle. McCoy was going inside.


	9. If Ever I Would Leave You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy finally gets some answers.
> 
>  

Even after letting their eyes get used to starlight, the living room light was still dim to them. It was meant mainly for television watching. A desk and several chairs had lamps with larger wattage for reading. In other words, not much had changed in a couple hundred years, not since McCoy’s grandfather had grown up in this very house.

McCoy pointed to an easy chair. "Sit, sit," he said softly to Spock. Then he sat down himself in a matching chair. They seemed to have left their belligerency on the front porch. Neither had really been angry. They had been many things, McCoy realized, but not angry. Spock had been concerned, McCoy had been frustrated. Both had wanted to have his own way, almost like children would. And now that the flare up was over, their energy seemed to have gone with it.

McCoy sat listlessly, too exhausted to talk. A strange, dull tiredness had come over him, but he wasn’t sleepy. It was almost as if he had gone into a neutral state. He knew he had waited for this moment since before Spock arrived. But now that it was here, he was in no hurry to speak.

And Spock, who had traveled several hundred miles and untold light years to reach McCoy, was in no rush, either.

Oddly, both men were content just to sit quietly together as the night wore itself away. It was almost time for the late news, but McCoy made no move to turn on the television. He knew that was not why they were sitting in this quiet room.

McCoy really didn’t wish to speak, but he could tell that Spock was waiting for him to break the silence.

"I didn't intend for you to hear that outside,” McCoy began at last. “I wasn't going to get into all of our history while you were here, not unless you brought it up. I didn’t want us to go through all of that embarrassment again. I was just going to let this be a fresh start, if that’s what you wanted.”

McCoy waited. But after Spock said nothing, McCoy continued. He supposed that Spock was letting him apologize without interruption, if that was what McCoy wanted to do. Funny, McCoy thought. He’s the one who came here to talk, but I’m doing all of it so far.

"I was just going to let being together with you again be enough,” McCoy said. “But seeing you, being with you once more, has brought it all back. It's all raw again and I'm bleeding inside like somebody's dealt me a fatal blow.” He took a deep breath for courage. "But it's my problem, not yours. Sorry to involve you again."

"If you are hurting, I am by all means concerned about you. You may tell you anything you wish about what is bothering you."

"Thanks, but you don't need to be subjected to that clone mess again. It wasn't your doing, so don't worry yourself about it. I appreciate your concern, but it’s really something that I have to work out on my own."

”I am sorry, too, Doctor, but leaving was no way to deal with your problem--”

McCoy held up his hand. “But it was my way, okay? I appreciate your visit, too. But I, ah, know that it’s time for you to go.” He sighed deeply. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you into town so you can leave. Just say the word, and I can drop everything.”

“I am being punished?”

“I am. You have done nothing wrong.”

“But I will be punished if you send me away.”

”It’s your plan to leave, not mine.”

"It is the natural order of things. I cannot stay. I must go back."

"I know," McCoy smirked. "I wouldn't want to be around a royal screw-up like me, either."

"That is not true. I hold you in high regard and I always will. You are my friend."

"Even after I humiliated the hell outa you?"

”You should not be faulted for falling in love. At least I was not betrayed as you were. It must be difficult to look at me, because the clone and I look alike."

McCoy had never thought that Spock might feel that way. Maybe that was one reason why Spock hadn’t been around him too much in the Enterprise after the clone incident. That could also account for part of Spock’s pissy attitude at the Atlanta Airport. He might’ve been uneasy because he had no idea how he would seem to McCoy.

So many angles that McCoy hadn’t thought of! Seeing them now through Spock’s eyes might answer some of the questions he’d had over Spock’s behavior. Here McCoy had thought that Spock had been standoffish, but the poor guy might’ve not known what to do!

Then, too, Spock might’ve just been standoffish on the Enterprise and pissy at Atlanta. With Spock, one could never tell.

McCoy decided to put Spock at ease about that much. “You know, I never resisted seeing you after the clone incident. I knew that he wasn’t you.” He frowned. “Afterwards.” He looked down at his hands. “While he and I were together, I thought that he was you,” he said softly.

Spock frowned. That was a truth that would never go away for either of them.

McCoy took a deep breath as if he was dismissing that part of the story for the moment. Then he took the story forward. "After it was all out in the open, I wanted it all to be forgotten. I wanted to take all traces of my ill-guided passion with me and let it be buried forever from anybody except myself.”

”You should know better than that. As a doctor, you have advised patients to talk out their problems with someone. Do you believe that you should not be accorded the same outlet?”

McCoy grimaced. “That’s one thing that I didn’t understand until now. Sure, I’ve advised patients to seek help and not to bottle issues up inside them. But it’s different when I was the patient. I did not realize the humiliation and the shame that patients felt until I went through it myself. There were so many things. I felt stupid that I’d been duped. I felt anger and betrayal. Perhaps the worst was that I felt that my wonderful passion was something cheap and not special at all. Besides being embarrassed about being duped by the clone, I was afraid that you’d be hurt and angry about the way you learned about my feelings for you. You didn't need to find out about my humiliation and what had caused it."

"That could never happen. You must realize that I knew how you felt when you left the Enterprise.”

“Meaning?”

“We were just beginning to be aware of each other as more than friends when I was abducted and my feelings were copied into the clone. I felt shame as you did because our tender yearnings had been exposed to the world before we could share them with each other. You say that you were embarrassed about how I might find out about your feelings. Did it not occur to you that I might feel embarrassment for the same reason?”

McCoy frowned as he soaked in that information, but do not reply.

Spock continued. “It was bad that incident had to occur. It injured both of us psychologically from the embarrassment. But beyond that embarrassment, I have missed our friendship. As convoluted as it may have appeared to other people, I missed it. And I will miss it again when I leave here.”

“So you are actually leaving.” McCoy had known it intellectually, but hadn’t wanted to accept it.

“I must leave.” Then Spock quickly added, “As you must.”

McCoy sucked in his breath. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I know that you feel safe here. This place contains your roots. It is your childhood home. I understand that.” Spock paused. “But it is not your life. That place is in space with Jim, and me, and the Enterprise.”

McCoy flinched as if he’d felt a sharp pain. But it was a pain to his heart. What Spock had just said sounded so good, so right. But McCoy could think of a thousand objections to extinguish the sudden warmth and joy in his heart. There were a hundred thousand reasons to douse the most treasured hope.

McCoy smirked as he voiced the most obvious objection. “I hate space. It ain't natural for mankind to be traipsing around in it like we've been doing.”

“But you love the Enterprise and those aboard her, and she flies in space. No matter how much you hate space, that is where your heart lies.”

McCoy’s smirk deepened into almost bitterness. It hurt so much inside him. “Helluva paradox, right?”

“Doctor, we are all paradoxes. That is what makes us so marvelously human.”

McCoy felt the warmth of familiar conversations comforting him. “So, now you are willing to recognize your human side? You’ve always been so illogically proud of your Vulcan half before. You acted like your mother had been stolen by Earthlings as a child and really didn’t have cultural or blood ties to this planet.”

“My Earthling roots were submerged into my father’s heritage. I was raised Vulcan, just as you were raised here. No wonder you returned to what has always sustained you. You identify strongly with this area. You have found a good life here again.”

“Yes, I have.”

“You have been accepted back again into this society, you have work which challenges you, and you have a lifestyle that is both pleasing and comfortable for you. It is just exactly what you needed when you fled the Enterprise in search of solace.”

McCoy waited. Spock still hadn’t said what he had come to say yet. McCoy would allow time so Spock could make his point. After all, the Vulcan had come a long distance just to talk. And now, hopefully, maybe Spock would. Time was running out, otherwise.

McCoy wanted to wring Spock’s neck, though. He wanted Spock to get on with it, but Spock seemed to be in no hurry to speak. He just there in that old easy chair looking infinitely wise and profound.

Finally, Spock spoke.

“A good life, indeed,” Spock said sagely with a nodding head. Then he stopped and looked at McCoy sharply. Gone was the sage, wise, profound look. “But it is not your life.”

The damn Vulcan had just said it again! And McCoy still couldn't face it.

“Spock-- Please-- I can’t.”

“Your life is in space. With us.”

“Spock--”

“You know that as well as I do.”

“Did Jim send you after me?”

“It was my idea to come here. I had to see what you thought was better than us.”

“Not better, Spock. But I needed to have something of my own again. Because I'd lost everything I’d ever valued aboard the Enterprise.”

“You did not lose everything.”

“I know, I know. It just seems like it, though, so stop looking at me with those injured kitten eyes. But you gotta see my side. It all felt so hopeless. It felt like my heart had been torn out of me, when my true love proved not to be as true as I thought. I’d pledged myself to him. All of my emotion lay within his heart. And all of those gifts of mine that I'd given to him had just amounted to nothing, nothing. Besides, I was so embarrassed. I just couldn’t face it anymore. I know that you can’t understand that, but it's how I feel about it, okay?”

“I am trying to understand,” Spock said patiently. “That is why I am here. I was willing to do anything to find out.”

“There have been times since you’ve been here that I’ve known that you’ve deliberately avoided an argument between us. I almost wanted to see how far you could be pushed to avoid an argument. But I didn’t.” McCoy frowned. “I-- couldn’t. I didn’t want to see where that breaking point could be. Because I knew that would be the end of everything for good.”

“It is true that I have walked away from potential ‘discussions’ between us.”

McCoy smirked with a sad, ironic look on his face.

"It is equally true that was not my initial plan when I first got here. You may have not realized it, but I was deliberately trying to get into an argument with you."

"Oh, I realized it," McCoy said with crossed arms. "What was that about, anyway? You were acting like a prima donna, a spoiled teenage girl wanting her way all the time. It made me want to put a boot up your ass, but I figured that wouldn't do either one of us any good. You'd still be a piss-ant, only with a sore ass. And I might break a toe in that cement-hard butt of yours. We’d both be hobbling around from our injuries, but at least we’d have something to be whining about."

"That is not quite the scenario I had planned. Nowhere was your booted toe or my posterior involved."

McCoy shrugged. "Figured." He gave Spock a thoughtful look. "What was your strategy, anyway?" 

"I thought that if you would get angry and cuss me out in your former fashion that it would remind you of our former times together. I thought that you would want to go back to those old times. I know that it was not much of a plan, but I was desperate." Spock looked a little embarrassed. "Then, too, I have to admit to a very human trait. It would have been nice to have won one of our 'discussions' again."

McCoy grinned. "Yeah, you gotta watch those nasty human traits. They can sneak up on you when you least expect it, and make you feel pretty smug about yourself."

“Arguing might have gratified a momentary satisfaction, that is true. I was sorely tempted to do so on this visit with you, just to prove that I was right once again. Then I would remember what was really important.”

McCoy didn’t want to ask, but he felt compelled. He figured that Spock’s reason would be the core of the whole situation between them.

“And what is that, Mr. Spock? What is more important than being right?”

“You. I did not want to lose you, and I still do not.”

Oh, hell, McCoy thought. Here we are. But is he talking just friendship? Or more?

“You may have already lost me,” McCoy murmured as he lowered his head and looked away.

“No, I have not,” Spock said adamantly. “I refuse to believe that.”

“Stubborn little cuss,” McCoy murmured through his swelling heart. Damn it, the Vulcan must think a lot of him, after all. Or at least their friendship, even after all that had happened to break the trust. McCoy fought back his feelings and dared to give Spock a hard look with all of the courage that he could summons. He must not have his heart displayed too prominently now. Let Spock choose him because that was what he wanted, not because he had to save a treasured friend.

McCoy was gambling with a very low powerhouse of cards in his hands. Maybe a pair of fives and the rest a whole lot smaller. He was betting high stakes and bluffing. But his bet was also on the Vulcan and any tender feelings that he hoped were still hidden between them.

“And why do you refuse to believe that? Why do you refuse to believe that it may too late for any kind of relationship between us?” McCoy wanted to know.

“Nobody has heard my side to all of this.”

That was not what McCoy had expected to hear. It was kind of a let down.

Spock’s statement also surprised McCoy. “You had every opportunity on the Enterprise. You just wouldn’t speak. So I assumed that your side was evident.”

“Well, it was not,” Spock stated stubbornly. “I was confused. Your liking me romantically was such a new idea to me that I had to consider--”

“Come on, Spock! You had to have known that something was going on between us before that, something that was more than just verbal gymnastics! Even you couldn’t be that dense.”

“You are correct,” Spock admitted. “I must admit to a certain warmth whenever we talked, a warmth that I could not attribute to a rise in the air temperature.” He raised one eyebrow slightly as if McCoy was supposed to be impressed. “Of course, I had not noticed that phenomenon until shortly before I was diverted and the clone of me apparently came into your life.”

”That’s probably about the time that I started noticing the same rise in air temperature whenever I was around you,” McCoy remarked dryly.

Spock accepted that assessment with a brief nodding of his head.

McCoy frowned in thought. “Your loss and the advent of the clone happened at the worst possible time in our relationship. We were just beginning to notice each other as more than friends and crew mates. If we would’ve been an established couple and surer of ourselves, we could have survived the clone incident together. There might've been a few rocky moments, but we'd sailed right through it. But we were not yet committed. We were not only unsure of ourselves, but of each other. Therefore, something that should have naturally evolved and been beautiful between us was only embarrassing and even silly. Probably still is,” he mumbled.

“It only is if we allow it to be.”

Spock might as well have struck a match. The whole business about the clone might've been so simply solved back then, if only, if only--

“Why in blue blazin’ hell didn’t you come up with something like that when this all blew up on the Enterprise?! We wouldn’t have had to have gone through all of this! Why didn’t you speak up?!” McCoy demanded, angry about what had happened. He was also angry about what hadn’t happened. All of the angst and separation could have been avoided if they’d faced the storm together. But nothing had ever been simple between them. Why should it be any different now?

McCoy looked away. Breathe, breathe, he kept telling himself. You gotta breathe-- No matter how mad you think you are, breathe!

“Why did I not say anything then, Doctor? Because I thought that I was the injured party,” Spock answered. “I thought that I had nothing to explain.”

When that got no response, Spock said, “Because I was likewise as embarrassed as you.”

When that explanation got no response, either, except for McCoy to huff and to cross his arms defiantly, Spock said the rest of the truth as he secretly thought it to be in his heart of hearts, “Because I was stupid to stay silent.”

That got a response, but not the one that Spock had expected. With McCoy, one never knew what would happen next. All that one knew for certain was that some sort of definite response would be forthcoming, and swiftly.

It happened in this instance, too.

McCoy whirled, anger flaring from his eyes. “You are not stupid!”

Spock blinked and jerked backward. Uh, he thought, but couldn’t quite voice his hesitation. He had not expected McCoy to go into protective mode, but McCoy had done just that. And fire was flying out of the little bantam rooster's eyes as if a hundred natives were each sharpening flint knives on a slab of concrete.

Meanwhile, McCoy was just getting started with his rant. “Of all the crazy, dumb-ass, half-assed things to come up with! Stupid?! Never! Got it?! You are never stupid! Blind! Opinionated! Arrogant! Mule-headed! Trying as hell! Exasperating! Smug as hell! Sure, all those things! But never, never, ever, stupid!”

McCoy turned his back on Spock again, his anger spent, trying not to swat at the angry tears suddenly stinging his eyelids. He couldn’t quite breathe through his nose, either, so he was gasping huge gulps of air that weren’t helping his breathing any. He felt, and looked, like a fish out of water.

McCoy felt like slapping the hell out of Spock or adopting him, all at the same time. Surely, surely, there was a happy medium between those two extremes, but it was beyond McCoy to know where that happy medium could be.

“Doctor?” Spock asked with some alarm. “Are you alright?”

“Yes!” McCoy roared. “No.” That was closer to the truth. "Hell, I will be, I will be," he chanted with his eyes screwed tightly shut.

Come on, damn it. Admit the truth for once in your miserable life, Leonard McCoy!

“Oh, hell, I wanna be. I wanna be alright. With all my heart, I wanna be. But I don’t know how. It's all just one helluva mess!” he said in exasperation.


	10. My Side Matters, Too, You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock has his say.
> 
>  

Spock looked thoughtful. ”Perhaps it will help if I tell you why I came here.”

McCoy wanted to yell, That's what I thought you'd been doing! But he didn't. Somehow, he knew that Spock was peeling back his reasons like layers of an onion.

But could he bear to hear what Spock had to say, even though he'd waited for days for Spock to speak? And what would it do to him? And to Spock?

He must protect Spock! The poor guy was such a novice at emotions!

”Please, no,” he breathed. "Don't."

But Spock took it differently. “So you control what can be said? What is fair about that?”

McCoy decided to go along with Spock's misconception. That seemed safer than Spock realizing that McCoy wanted to protect him. "Nothing. That’s just the kind of jerk that I am. But I don't want to face that, either. Damn it, Spock! Stop being my conscious! Leave me alone!"

"I cannot do that, Doctor. I will talk now, and you will listen."

McCoy drew his breath in sharply. Now he had a pissed off Vulcan. Well, he could be pissed off, too. “Hell, no!”

”Doctor--”

“I am not going to listen to this, and I won't,” McCoy declared with a huff as he gripped the chair arms to push himself to his feet.

Spock frowned. “But that is not logical.”

That puzzled McCoy, so he settled back down into his chair. “What isn’t? That I don’t want to listen to you?”

“Yes. You wanted me to speak, but now you do not wish to listen to what I have to say? Where is the logic in that?”

McCoy reconsidered. “And for that matter, where’s my common decency? And my good manners? Hell, I’m not even being nice. Or democratic.”

“I do not mind. For once during my stay here, you are treating me as you used to treat me. For once, you are being honest. Ranting, true; but honest.”

”I’ll be damn,” McCoy said in awe. The Vulcan was right.

"Hopefully not, Doctor. It would be such a waste if you were damned.”

McCoy ignored Spock’s attempt at humor to placate him. “I have been doing that, haven’t I? Avoiding the issues?”

”I did not know whether you wanted to talk or not.”

”I didn’t want to scare you off. You’ve suffered enough.”

”I disagree. You suffered far worse than I have. You were the one who left Star Fleet meekly and in shame. Only a defeated person who is suffering slinks away. But you have finally shown your old fighting spirit, when you were defending me just now.”

Damn it, Spock had figured that much out. ”But it proves nothing.”

“It proves that we could slide back into our old life before the clone incident, if we only allow it.”

“But there was the clone incident. It did happen. We cannot forget that fact.”

“But it does not need to rule our lives. It can be given its proper place, just as our student days have their proper place in our lives. But we moved on from our student days, and we can move on from the clone incident, too. It will not be easy, but the clone incident cannot ruin us. It is but a drop of rain falling into the ocean compared to the ocean itself. It is important and significant, but not everything. It it but an incident in our lives. It should not be the whole fabric of our whole lives.”

“But I embarrassed the hell outa you.”

“You did likewise to yourself.”

“I sure as hell did. You know, I should’ve known that it really wasn’t you when I hooked up with the clone. It was too easy. You, or the clone you, was suddenly agreeable to anything I proposed. And so loving. So very, very loving," he said in a haunted voice as he looked back into his past.

Spock frowned, but made no comment.

McCoy shook himself back to the present. "I should’ve known that something was wrong with that kind of behavior from you. But I was so damn happy, I didn’t question it. For once, I was following my heart. And I believed that you were following yours. But then it all came crashing down when the Enterprise heard from the real you. I couldn’t take the humiliation. I couldn’t face you, knowing what I had so recently been doing with the clone of you. I had to flee to lick my wounds.”

“And can you see how wrong that was to do?”

”Maybe.” McCoy held on stubbornly, though. “But I had my reasons. Pride is important, too.”

“Of course, it is. But it is a drop of water compared to what is important.”

McCoy rolled his eyes as Spock referred back to his comparison.

“You need to come back to the Enterprise,” Spock insisted.

“I choose to stay here. And there’s not a thing you can do to stop me.”

“Maybe not. But if you stay here, then so will I.”

How could Spock do something so stupid?! “What?! But you can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Spock asked as he folded his arms. “My life, my decision.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense! What would you possibly do here?!”

“I could work at the clinic and provide needed medical care. I am qualified.”

“You would be bored in a week!”

“You have found answers here. Maybe I would, also.”

“I have found that I am responsible for my own happiness here. Where did you go and what did you find?” McCoy asked sarcastically.

“I came here. And I found you.”

McCoy maneuvered away from that landmine he'd set for himself. “Why did you show up here now, anyway?”

“That was what I want to tell you. I realized that the time was right and that I was ready to learn.”

”To learn? Learn what? What do you mean?”

I need to understand why you came here.”

McCoy shrugged. “That’s easy. This is my home.”

“I also need to understand why you are staying here.”

”Where else could I go?” McCoy asked softly. “Besides, the land sustains me. It will always be here, in some form, even if I’m not. That continuity gives me peace. It makes me part of something, and that is satisfying to me now.”

Spock nodded slowly in comprehension.

”But you can’t stay here,” McCoy said firmly. “Your life would be ruined. I will not allow that sacrifice, just because of some misguided notion you have about staying here with me. You don’t owe me anything like that. You don’t owe anybody that kind of sacrifice.”

”That is your honest opinion?”

”Yes, it is,” McCoy said with a nod of affirmation.

”Then let me tell you the sacrifice that I was willing to make. And I believed at the time that it had nothing to do with you."

McCoy frowned. What had Spock nearly done that would've been that life altering?

As if he had heard the question, Spock answered, "Just as you had done, I was going to leave my life aboard the Enterprise. I was going to do kolinahr.”

A familiar icy fear gripped McCoy’s heart. McCoy always felt that fear when Spock threatened to perform the ceremony to purge all emotions from himself. It was the one thing that McCoy could not fight, because he would have no power to reach Spock if Spock was divested of all feeling. Feeling was what linked them, and kohinahr would rupture that link forever.

"But I found that I could not walk away from everything as you had," Spock continued. "My will and determination are insufficient. I am not strong enough."

"It wasn't strength that motivated me," McCoy said wearily. "It was survival."

Spock’s face hardened. “I also knew that I would be doing the ceremony for the wrong reason. Kolinahr is meant to be used for enlightenment and to rid oneself of distractions so that one can concentrate on study. But I realized that I would be using it to rid myself of emotions so that I would not be thinking about you. Kolinahr should be used for something positive, not for a way to hide from life. Just as you cannot use your ancestral home to hide anymore. You need to return to your real home.”

“And you think that I could go back to the Enterprise? Back to my life and my friends there?” McCoy asked.

“Yes.”

“But how can I face them?”

“They are your friends. They will accept you.”

“But do we need to go back together?”

“I thought that was the subject of this whole conversation,” Spock answered reasonably.

"You would help me?"

"Yes."

Spock made it sound so easy, so tempting. But McCoy knew that the method was wrong. “Spock, I will always need you. But I just can’t use you for a crutch. And you cannot use me for a crutch, either. We'd lose our respect for each other.” McCoy pursed his lips together. “So we’re back to whether or not it makes sense for you to stay here, because I'm staying. I say 'no' for your staying, though. Go back to your life in space.”

“If you stay here, I will, also," Spock affirmed.

McCoy huffed in exasperation.

"If you do not wish to be a part of my life, I will establish my own life apart from you,” Spock declared airily.

“What the hell good would that do?!”

“We would be near to each other. At least then I would know that you are alright. That is another reason why I sought you out. I was worried about your will to live. I feared you had withdrawn from life."

"I tried that for awhile. But man is resilient, and life has a funny way of not letting you go. I lived in spite of myself. I even prospered."

"Then I was right to worry when you first left. I must continue to know that you are faring well. I find that it is impossible for me to live in peace, otherwise.”

McCoy pursed his lips. "Sorry." But he was secretly thrilled that Spock valued him enough to be upset by his absence.

"That is why I would stay close to wherever you are. I cannot do otherwise. You must not deny me this request."

McCoy studied the earnest face looking at him, then he nodded. It must have been devastating for Spock to think that he had driven away his friend. No wonder he was so concerned about him now. “What would you be doing with your time here? I know that you’d get bored in the clinic after awhile. What else could you do?”

“I could teach science,” Spock announced.

“You?! A teacher?!" The ridiculousness of that idea lightened McCoy's mood. "You gotta know more than subject matter to teach kids. You gotta also know what to do with them besides giving them the Vulcan nerve pinch if they upset you.”

"Perhaps you are correct," Spock said thoughtfully. “If I cannot be in the classroom, I will apply my science skills then.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

“I will be a farmer,” Spock declared stoutly.

McCoy blinked. "What?!"

“I will buy a nearby farm to you and raise crops. It cannot be that difficult to farm.”

“You're crazy! You know nothing about farming!”

“You plant seeds. You tend them while they grow. You harvest them. You store them until they are needed for consumption or replanting. What else is there to know?" Spock demanded stubbornly.

“There’s more to it than that! You have to have a knack for farming, for starters! And a background in agriculture would certainly help before you go out and start busting sod and broadcasting seeds to the four winds!”

Spock relaxed from the humor. “Even I know better than that. This land is no longer open prairie. And this is a different type of soil than prairie. Sod occurred in the American West. Therefore, I could not 'bust sod' here.”

“Nitpicker!”

“Facts. Farming would come naturally to me. It is man’s second oldest livelihood.”

“Well, at least that much is right. It’s right behind food gathering and following the herds of whatever large quadrupeds were locally available to be hunted and eaten. I could picture you out there hunting dinosaurs, but we don't get many dinosaurs around Georgia any more. And as for farming, you aren’t cut out to be a farmer!”

“I will learn,” Spock declared stoutly. “I am adaptable.”

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?! Living here, shut off from the world that you have come to be a part of and which is important to you, would be so wasteful of your talents. Besides, Jim needs you with him. His heart bleeds all over the place when he tells you that, but it’s the unvarnished truth. You are wanted, and needed, on the Enterprise.”

“Just as you are,” Spock insisted.

McCoy huffed. “It’s different with me,” he muttered in defense.

“Why is it different for you?” Spock hammered away.

“Because--”

“Because?”

“Just, just, because it is, that’s why!” McCoy declared, feeling trapped and losing the argument. He lashed out wildly. “I figure that you just want to devil me some more. You say that you’re interested in my welfare, but I figure you just want me around so you can get in a cheap shot now and then.”

For some reason, Spock chose now to understand McCoy’s idiom. Otherwise, their discussion might’ve dissolved into another hopeless mess again. Maybe it was too important for Spock to be side-tracked.

Spock gave him a critical look. “Is that what you really think, Doctor? Am I really that shallow and callous?”

McCoy looked sheepish, but did not answer.

“There is another reason why I would be willing to stay here with you, besides knowing the state of your welfare.” When that bait didn’t catch McCoy’s interest, Spock asked, “Shall I tell you why?” When McCoy still didn’t answer, Spock asked in a stronger voice, “Well? Why do you not answer?”

“I figured you’d tell me anyway when you got around to it and that I’d be wasting my breath by answering any sooner. But here I am, wasting my breath anyway. So tell me, why are you willing to stay here with me?”

McCoy’s belligerent voice would have fended off most people, but not Spock. Not this time.

“Because I want to work on our relationship.”

That took the wind out of McCoy’s sails. “Oh, hell. Oh, hell, I’m sorry, Spock. Now I feel like a grade-A louse. You were trying to say something nice, something kind, something sincere, and I responded like the jerk that I am.”

“You have been greatly hurt by the clone incident. No wonder you are skeptical.”

“Well, yeah, but there should be no excuse for acting like a jerk. You’re being awfully forgiving. I appreciate that very much.”

Spock changed tactics. They needed to move on from injured feelings and feeling guilty about something that wasn’t their fault. “This personal relationship that might have grown between us if not for the clone incident, would we not have been equals then?”

“Well, yes,” McCoy had to admit.

“Then why are we not equals when it comes to my staying here?”

“Because, because, this was once my life! Not yours! I can come back to it because it's mine!”

“You just said it yourself, ‘This was once my life.’ ‘Once,’ Doctor. Not now.”

McCoy huffed, beaten by his own words.

“And, yes, you could come back to it,” Spock continued. “But you do not feel complete anymore. Something feels like it is missing, and that is because something IS missing.”

McCoy grimaced. “Damn it!”

“What? What is wrong?”

“I cannot argue with your logic.”

Spock tried not to grin with his victory.

“No, I cannot argue with your logic. Not anymore. It is just as you say. I feel incomplete here. Now!” He glared at Spock. “I was perfectly content until you showed your green ass around here!”

Spock’s dark eyes sparkled, and a grin tickled the corners of his mouth.

“But the clone incident will always be there,” McCoy reminded him.

“But just like the Second World War on Earth, we can learn from it.”

McCoy’s eyes sparkled at him, but his grin held no mirth. “Always a teacher, ain’t you?” 

“It seems as if you always need to be learning some lesson, Doctor.”

“I’ll let that pass. For now.”

“I will always be ready for further discussion and debate. I just wanted to know that there is that possibility for me.”

“There will always be. Especially now. Damn it, I’ve missed our lively ‘discussions, Spock.’”

“So have I. They are a part of our relationship that is very important to me. But I believe that we could have more. There is more to the universe than philosophical debate.”

”I never thought that I’d hear you say something like that.”

”I have come to new understandings in my thinking since you left. About a lot of things.” Spock pressed his lips together slightly. “I believe that I might even be agreeable to a relationship that is based upon something more than comradeship and friendship. I need to know if you would be interested in an elevated change of our status.”

’Elevated change of our status.’ Gotta love that! Tread carefully here, McCoy! The Vulcan might be talking about the good stuff!

McCoy decided to give Spock the opportunity to back out on a commitment. "How elevated are we talking here?" McCoy wanted to know.

But Spock would not be deterred. "As far as we wish to take it," Spock said grimly. "I simply want a relationship with you."

“Oh, hell," McCoy said breathlessly. "I wanted to suggest something like that, but I was afraid that I might piss you off.”

“I will not scare off that easily, Doctor, now that I know that there may be the opportunity for more of a relationship between us.”

“I would like the opportunity to explore that possibility,” McCoy said shyly.

“I believe that I can give you that opportunity,” Spock promised. “That’s reassuring for me to know, also.”

McCoy sat upright in his chair. “Okay, so that means that I will need to get ready to go back to the Enterprise... right?” He just needed to make certain that he hadn’t misunderstood. Or maybe he just wanted Spock to say it again.

“Yes,” Spock said with satisfaction. “Jim is waiting.”

“You knew that you’d succeed in enticing me away, didn’t you?!” McCoy sputtered.

"I hoped that you would be nostalgic for your old life and would be ready to return to it by now. I was hoping that you might also be interested in a deepening of our relationship."

McCoy felt like raising himself up on his tiptoes, he was feeling so happy. But he didn’t want the Vulcan to be feeling too smug about how everything was turning out the way he’d planned.

”Feeling pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

Spock tried to look humble, but it didn’t quite come off. “Well, yes, if I do say so myself, I am.”

”You do realize, of course, that pride is right up there with emotions, don’t you?”

Spock beamed with a tight-lipped smile as one eyebrow went up, oh, so daintily. “I certainly hope so, Doctor.”

Damn Vulcan! Wouldn’t even let him have even this victory!

”Another day, Spock.”

Spock accepted the challenge with a benevolent twinkle in his eyes. “I shall await your challenge,” Spock said graciously.

My challenge, my ass! You just think you got the upper hand!

As if he had heard, Spock bowed his head in concession and seemed to say, Doctor, I await you to do whatever you think is appropriate.

McCoy decided to change the subject by reminding Spock of a loose string. “But in the meanwhile, before leaving, you need to figure out how to tell Timmy goodbye. He’s still curious about your anatomy. You’ve never satisfied him.”

Spock arched an eyebrow. “I shall give young Master Timothy an anatomy book for a goodbye present. That should satisfy his curiosity for awhile.”

McCoy’s eyes sparkled. He was back in teasing mode. “And what will you give me when I get curious about your anatomy?”

Spock decided to be playful, also.

“I will let you find out for yourself, Doctor.”

McCoy’s eyes blazed with interest. “You will?”

Spock’s eyes blazed back with his own interest. “Most assuredly. But I will only permit it aboard the Enterprise. If that is what it will take to get you out of here, I will gladly make that sacrifice.”

"You will, huh? Sacrifice, huh?" McCoy barked.

"When I joined Star Fleet, I swore to give all of myself to my duty." Spock's eyes twinkled as a smile played along his lips. "I am yours to command, Doctor. On the Enterprise."

It felt good to be horsing around with a little sexual innuendo mixed in. “Where’s that damn transporter?! I’m ready to go home! I’m wanting to get right to this commanding business!”

”Patience, Doctor. You must have patience.”

”I’ll think about it,” McCoy growled. Then he sobered. Horsing around was one thing, but this was still a serious moment. "Spock, I, I really want to get this straightened out between us."

"I do, too, Doctor. And we will. We will work on it together. And we will give it all the time that is needed. Because it is important. To both of us. I sincerely believe that."

McCoy grinned as warmth spread through him. "I do, too, Spock," McCoy said softly. "Our future starts right now."

Spock returned the gentle smile. How good it was to see that McCoy was happy again and to know that he was responsible for that much happiness in someone else. And it was for the greatest reason possible.

They were going home!

Together!

To a future that contained the promise of hope.

Not everyone is afforded that promise. But thank goodness, the prospect of hope in their futures was theirs again.

And maybe a whole lot more.


	11. Leaving On A Jet Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy sees Spock off at the Atlanta airport.
> 
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> 
>  

Of course, McCoy couldn't leave as soon as he'd wanted. He still had a life in Georgia that needed to be suspended. He couldn't be at the clinic one day and not show up the next. He had friends to tell goodbye and a house to close up. Only then could he return to his true home on the Enterprise.

In the meantime, he dutifully drove Spock back to the Atlanta airport so that he could rejoin Jim Kirk back in San Francisco. But at least he and Spock had made their peace, and their parting was not as awkward as Spock's arrival had been. It still had its moments, though, especially when they got inside the air terminal.

"Now, you got everything, didn't you?" McCoy asked as he looked at Spock's one piece of luggage. No stickers with Atlanta Braves and Peach State were plastered on its plain sides. It made Spock look more like a salesman with his sample case than a traveler.

"I did not bring much with me, remember?"

"Well, yeah, and I can always bring anything that you forgot," McCoy said absently as he looked around. He seemed oddly unsettled, but would not admit that it was because Spock was leaving without him. "It won't be that long before I'm following you."

"That you will," Spock agreed patiently. He was much more settled than McCoy was. He just wished that McCoy would stop swinging his head around so much. When he kept moving like that, McCoy resembled the pendulum of a striking clock.

"Well, you're all checked in and you've got a few minutes before your flight can load." McCoy seemed to be running through some sort of mental list of his own, as if he was a nervous mother seeing her son off to camp for the first time. "Want anything from the concession stands? Snacks? Something to read? Do you need a trip to the bathroom before you board?"

Maybe it was a mother seeing her son off for the first time.

"My dietary needs are few. I will get something to eat on the plane, if I require it. As for the other, the plane also has toilet facilities. Besides, I have a large capacity bladder." A touch of humor shown in his dark eyes. "I can hold my water, Doctor, so you and Master Timothy need not worry about me in regards to that problem."

The subject of their conversation suddenly registered with McCoy, and he stopped his swiveling head to stare at Spock's twinkling eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to go away hungry," McCoy said nervously. "Or cross-legged from a need for a potty break. That sudden climb of the jet can get all sorts of things out of whack. You wouldn't want to wet yourself or soil yourself during the ascent. Or during the descent, either," he finished lamely, wondering how the conversation had become a discussion of Spock's potential bathroom needs. The man wasn't exactly a novice to air flight.

"I will be fine," Spock kindly said to reassure him.

McCoy nodded, but seemed a little unsure of himself. Now that his check list had been completed, he didn't know what else to say. He scuffed his toe on the floor. "Well, I guess this is it."

Spock looked concerned as a new thought struck him. "Will you be alright if I leave? You seem distracted."

McCoy shrugged. "Yeah. Well, it's just kinda odd, you know? Now that I've made the decision to go back, it's unsettling not to leave now. I'm in a hurry to get back. But then again, I'm not. It'll all be great-- the job, the friends, the routine-- except for one thing. Will returning to where it all happened bring back everything I was feeling?" A muscle twitched in his cheek. "With him. The clone." He took a deep breath. "Time has dulled some of it. But it'll all be fresh again when I get back on the Enterprise, where it all happened." He sighed. "Will there be too many memories? Of him?" McCoy bit his lips together. "Of, of us?"

Spock frowned.

"I'll deal with it then," I suppose. Not your problem." McCoy stirred himself. "Oh. Okay. Well, I guess you're squared away then. Your gate is over there," McCoy said as he turned and pointed. "When your flight is called, that is where you'll head. They'll take care of you from there," he said as if Spock had never flown before.

"Do you still love him?" Spock blurted out suddenly.

McCoy turned back as his arm slowly lowered. "What?"

"The clone. Did you love him?" He bit his lips together. "Do you still?" Spock's face looked anxious.

McCoy thought that it had all been said, but he was wrong. Turned out, nothing had been said. Not the important stuff. Not the thing that Spock really needed to know.

"Your flight leaves in a few minutes! You had a week to ask me that! Why the hell did you wait until now to speak up?!"

"I tried. A hundred times, I tried. But I could not. I do not know how I would process your answers. I finally decided not to ask. But I find that I need to know, even if it hurts me. I have to know if you really loved him."

Heaven, have mercy. There were tears in Spock's eyes. How this whole thing must have hurt him!

"Yes, I did," McCoy answered softly. "I loved him very much. I was so darn happy when it happened, too. You finally admitted to having feelings, and they were for me." His smile softened until it was only sad. "There were shooting stars blazing all through the heavens, and I was riding them. I have never been so in love as when I was loving him. I didn't know that life could get so perfect."

"And it hurt you when the truth was discovered about the clone?"

"Hell, yes. I was devastated."

"And you were devastated because you had deep feelings about the thing that you thought was me?"

McCoy nodded. "I know it seems stupid, but--"

"How about me for being stupid? I am envious of what he had with you. I find that it is very difficult to be jealous of myself, yet I am."

"You poor, dumb bastard," McCoy said in awe.

"I am probably all of those things, except the bastard. My parents were married."

A smile tickled McCoy's lips. Spock and his unconscious humor! But it helped to relieve the tension in McCoy. He doubted that it helped Spock any, though.

But now McCoy had to try to explain so Spock could ease some of the hidden angst that he had been feeling. "I loved him because he was you. I would've gotten tired of all that perfection after awhile. I would've wanted the real you." He smiled a genuine smile, not just one to keep from crying. "Warts and all."

McCoy wanted to say, 'And I still do.' The unspoken words throbbed between them. Spock was bound to feel their silent vibrations. Not even a Vulcan is that non-receptive.

But Spock had something else on his mind, too.

"I could never be as perfect as he was."

"What?" McCoy questioned.

"He was programmed to be perfect, while I--"

"He was programmed off of you! That's the important thing! Not that he was perfect! But that he was a copy of you! Don't you understand?! It would've never worked if I hadn't had such deep feelings for you!"

"Well, I have deep feelings for you, too. And they were copied into the clone. Otherwise, you two would not have responded to each other so readily."

McCoy looked startled, finally hearing what he had longed to hear for so long. And it had nothing to do with the clone. Then he grinned shyly. "Really? You do? You have deep feelings for me?"

"Maybe I cannot express them the way that the clone did to you. But they are nonetheless real."

McCoy could not believe what he was hearing. Could it be true? Could it really be true?!

"And I had to find you, to tell you how I felt. And to ask you for a chance to prove what I am saying is the truth. I had not spoken up before the clone and after, and those lost opportunities were mistakes. I did not wish to lose a third opportunity, but you seemed very content and settled with your life now. I was going away in silence, but I find that I cannot leave without speaking. I do not care about what happened between you and the clone except that it shattered your heart. I hope so much to be able to repair that damage, if I can. I want so much for you to be whole again."

But McCoy could not answer. His heart was in his throat and blooming with all the hope that had lain dormant since he had left the Enterprise. He was hearing what he'd longed to hear, but he was so overwhelmed that he could not find his voice.

Then, when McCoy was his most vulnerable, Spock said something that won McCoy over completely. McCoy doubted that Spock realized it, though, because Spock was admitting a very human trait which also showed his own vulnerability.

“I hoped, Doctor. I did not know if I would succeed on my mission to Georgia or not. But I hoped. I hope with all of my heart that I can help you. I have never hoped for anything more, not even my desire to attend Star Fleet Academy or to serve on the Enterprise with Jim Kirk. Not even my feeling for you. That is how important it is to me.”

McCoy felt like melting all over the place. “Bless that little ticking organ of yours and its earnestness,” McCoy murmured, half embarrassed, half muttering whatever came into his mind to say. Anything to cover Spock’s vulnerability. McCoy felt such a need to protect Spock and his exposed feelings that he would say or do anything. McCoy would have to save them both. "You never knew it, but I've always recognized the goodness in your heart. I'm as bad as Timmy is."

"But I do know that. I believe that is why you responded so easily to the clone. It had been programmed with the feelings I had for you in the depths of my heart, feelings that I was just beginning to realize." Spock took a deep breath, but proceeded because he would have no peace with himself if he stopped now. "Feelings that I am now ready to acknowledge to you."

McCoy's eyes popped. Was Spock confessing to McCoy what McCoy thought that he was hearing?! If so, McCoy wanted to hear more.

But would there be time now? Spock's flight would be called at any moment. Why had Spock waited so long to say what he had come to say?

McCoy realized the answer to that question.

If Spock's mission had failed, Spock could have immediately gotten on the jet and flown away. It was something that McCoy could understand.

As it was, Spock was suddenly finished talking. He drew himself up, a cap on his feelings once more, as if he suddenly remembered the crowds milling around them in the Atlanta air terminal. “But that is something that needs to be discussed at another time.”

Okay, McCoy could play this game. It was a perfect place for an uncontrollable rant. Instead, he couldn’t help teasing the stiff Vulcan. “Really?”

McCoy’s attitude made Spock unsure of himself. “Hopefully, a discussion of that nature will have a place in the future.”

McCoy was amazed that he could cause stress in Spock. Why he could cause stress, really impressed him. He decided to put Spock at ease. Use of such power should be used only in small doses. Just knowing that one possessed that power should be enough.

“I believe that it will have a place in our future, Mr. Spock,” McCoy assured him. “Most sincerely.”

Spock looked relieved. Maybe they both could relax.

"There's the first call for your flight," McCoy noted as he heard the announcement. "So, you may be ready to acknowledge your feelings, eh?" he asked with a lazy smile.

"Yes," Spock confirmed.

"Well, when you get around to acknowledging them and not just ready to do so, you'll be sure to let me know, won't you?" McCoy teased.

"I will do that, Doctor," Spock avowed solemnly. "On the Enterprise," he stressed.

McCoy eyed him levelly. "You drive a hard bargain, Vulcan."

"I should. The stakes are high. It is for the rest of my life."

McCoy sucked his breath in sharply. Oh, hell! Spock was going to make him bawl yet.

Do they say goodbye, shake hands, hug, or all three? The handshake proved to be enough, for as their hands touched, they knew that all was well between them. McCoy felt shy and demure, and he thought that Spock was overwhelmed by the tenderness of the moment. They were friends again, and both were grateful.

Spock left with McCoy's promises that he would rejoin the Enterprise crew just as quickly as he was able. Those reassurances made Spock lighthearted as he flew out of Atlanta. As the jet climbed into the sky and headed West, Spock looked down on Georgia quickly disappearing beneath him. It had been an interesting trip, and a fruitful one in the unique state that was McCoy's birthplace. There was no way that he would ever forget his week in Georgia. It was a gorgeous place with beautiful scenery and interesting people. No wonder that it was so beloved.

But he would not want to live there. And if he had his way, it would be a long time before Leonard McCoy ever lived in Georgia again, either. And if McCoy did, he just might have to put up with the company of a certain stubborn Vulcan.

McCoy turned away from the window where he'd been watching Spock's jet disappear into the West with a smoky contrail following it. McCoy smirked. Just like always, the damn Vulcan was leaving with his ass on fire.

 

“Lalia, wake up,” Jim Kirk mumbled after noting the time with a sigh and nudging his bed partner in her ribs. “We’ve overslept again.”

The woman rolled over toward him and squinted her near-sighted eyes at him. “That’s never bothered you before, James T.”

“Well, it does this morning,” he said as he shoved the covers aside. Then he collapsed back against his pillow. “I’m getting too old for these late nights.”

“That was nearer this morning, darling,” Lalia said and raised herself on her elbow and leaned over Kirk’s chest. Her full breasts swung heavily down and grazed his closest nipple.

That got Kirk’s attention, but he turned with a frown. “Don’t. Please, don’t. Not with those exquisite breasts. I don’t have time this morning.”

Lalia leaned back, taking her infinite charming breasts with her. “You never had qualms about being late to the meetings at Starfleet headquarters. What’s so special about today? We’re supposed to be on holiday now until we report back to our ships.”

Kirk gave her a soft grin. “Because this is the day that I pick Spock up at the airport.”

“You and your crew!” Lalia scoffed as she rolled her eyes at the ceiling.

“Don’t give me that, Captain,” Kirk reproved gently as he gave her a winning smile. “You’re as bad as I am. You’d do anything for your crew, and you know it.” His eyes flicked over her lovely face framed in jet black hair and punctuated with those startling lime green eyes that wouldn't leave him alone. “And I know it, too. And that’s only one of the reasons that makes you so damned irresistible to me.”

“Yeah, I’m as married to my ship and crew as you are. You know that I’ll never desert them for a mere man. That’s why I’m safe to you. I’ll never want a wedding ring and all that goes with it. Why would I settle for the suburbs when I can travel the stars free as an intergalactic bird?”

“Yeah,” Kirk whispered with a rush of air from his lungs. He fit his forefinger into her prominent cleft chin. “And I’ll meet you anytime, anyplace, lady. Just say it.”

She scoffed. “Just as long as the place has a revolving door on it, right?”

He gave her a huge grin. “I love how you think, lady.”

“Don’t worry. I’d make certain that the door revolves myself. I don’t know what I’d do if I was wearing your wedding ring, James T. I’d never have a moment’s peace. I’d figure you’d be flirting with women on television and on sides of cereal boxes. As long as it had the necessary equipment, you weren’t going to refuse anyone, even if they had no idea of your existence.”

“Hey, what can I say? I love the ladies. And I’m an equal opportunity employer,” he murmured as he leaned forward to cuddle her and to press himself against those magnificent breasts again.

“Back off, James T. You have a meeting with your First Officer, remember?”

“That’s not for hours,” Kirk confessed as he closed his eyes and buried his face in her billowing hair that smelled like lemons all the time.

Lalia pulled back. “But you are meeting him. And not me. Later. And will be with him tonight.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Maybe. Just pointing out that you have an unnatural love for your First Officer.”

“I felt that way about my former Chief Medical Officer, too. They’re my best friends.”

“And what woman could ever compete with bromances like that?”

“Hey, but you’ve got something that neither one of them has,” Kirk informed her as he kissed her naked shoulder.

“And what’s that, James T.?” she asked as she closed her eyes to the feelings that he was stirring.

He pulled up his head and gave her a knowing look with his raised eyebrows.

She grinned. “Oh. Well, let’s not let my special attributes go to waste then, shall we, James T.?”

He moved toward her lips. Some questions just don’t need answers.

 

“Captain, it is good to see you again.”

Kirk gave him a lazy smile. “And you, too, Mr. Spock.” He led Spock toward the airport entrance. “I have a hovercraft waiting.”

“What? No beaten up pickup truck with one hundred thousand miles on it? Really, Captain, you will be spoiling me with modern conveniences.”

“That bad, huh?” he said with a grin. “How did you find Dr. McCoy, anyway?”

“Not with a radar, that was for certain,” Spock answered as he seated himself in the hovercraft.

“Oh, ho, ho! You have been around Bones too long, haven’t you? His acid has rubbed off onto you, and you’ve brought it along.”

“For that, I must apologize, Captain. Dr. McCoy, and Georgia, were unique experiences, unique experiences, indeed. There are also what I can only term as ‘quaint’ people living there. They may be existing in a century far behind ours, say several.”

“That bad, huh?” Kirk repeated.

Spock smiled softly in remembrance. “Actually, the experience was not bad, at all. Some of the people were quite enjoyable. I was surprised and thoroughly entertained by one young lad in particular. He is what you might say is individualistic. In many ways, he reminded me of you.”

“Me?!” Kirk exclaimed with a hoot of laughter. “As if the universe could stand two of me!”

“I believe that there is room in the universe for both James T. Kirk and for Master Timothy Culver.”

“You’re certainly in a good mood, Mr. Spock. All must have gone well on your mission with Dr. McCoy.”

“Let us just say, Captain, that we reached an agreement of minds.”

“As smug as you’re acting, that must mean good news to me as well. Why, you’re acting like the cat that ate the cream. You must be very pleased with yourself.”

“I am. I believe that Dr. McCoy will shortly be rejoining the crew of the Enterprise.”

That made everything suddenly more personal. They were no longer two officers talking.

“Oh, hell, Spock,” Kirk said with relief. “That’s good news about Bones. I can’t wait for all of us to be together again. Nothing’s felt right since he left us.”

“I believe that to be a universal opinion, Captain,” Spock replied, swinging back into officer/officer mode again. “And I hope that all facets of that problem to be eventually resolved, as quickly as possible.”

Kirk studied Spock’s smugness. “Something did change between you two, didn’t it?”

“Partly. And it partly awaits the future and whatever that may bring with it. Dr. McCoy is capable of driving a hard bargain. He can be quite stubborn.”

Half a block went by as Kirk studied Spock’s profile.

“You know, Spock, it's been my experience that if things still need a little bit of a push, it’s never unmanly to beg. If all else fails, beg. It’ll get you sympathy, if nothing else. The wisest men who’ve ever lived have been known to beg when they know they’ve made a helluva mistake in judgment. It does not show how small you are, but how big.”

Spock’s eyes slid toward Kirk, but Spock did not turn his head. “I will remember that, Captain.”

“In fact, groveling on the floor with your shirt torn open and your chest bleeding from your beating on it with your bare fists works wonder. You’ll feel like an utter, demeaned ass doing it, but I'm thinking that acting like an utter, unfeeling ass before McCoy left the Enterprise was what put you in the situation that you’re in now. Besides, when you beg, the other person will feel sorry for a dumb-ass like you. You’ll come across as barely being able to function on anything above a molecular level, but it’ll prove how in need you really are. Who could possibly be cold and unfeeling to you after a performance like that?” 

“You are correct. I should have talked to Dr. McCoy before he left the Enterprise. I made a mistake which I will always regret, because it added to his anguish. I have managed to correct enough of my mistakes to get him back on duty. But there are many personal issues still facing us.”

“Remember, more sympathetic attention will be coming your way if you just remain humble. That may grind your gears, but you’ll get further with McCoy if you don’t antagonize him. I know that you like to bait him, but maybe this would be the place to soft-pedal it for awhile until the tie is stronger between you two. Alright?”

Spock grimaced, but offered no argument. Kirk's idioms were perfectly understandable, why did McCoy's idioms leave him puzzled and lost? “I will remember that advice also, Captain.”

Kirk softened. Hell, he liked the Vulcan, too, and wanted to help. “Besides, who could pass up an opportunity to rescue someone? I know that Bones couldn’t. He’s got a tender heart and won’t want you to suffer. He’ll be adopting you and biting the head off at the shoulders of anyone who tries to hurt you in any way whatsoever. He’s got a lot of feisty energy about him.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Spock’s mouth. “I know.”

Kirk studied him again for at least half a block or three Mississippis.

“That feisty energy of McCoy’s just needs to be channeled into appropriately interesting ways, Mr. Spock.”

Spock’s closest eyebrow wiggled upward ever so slightly, and his grin deepened. “I know.”

Kirk grinned and punched Spock lightly on the shoulder. “You dog, you. I’m not telling you anything that you don’t know already, do you?”

Spock finally turned his head, and his eyes were shining with happiness. “I certainly hope that could be the scenario for a future time, Captain.”

“Are you admitting to a secret crush that you've had on Dr. McCoy, Commander?”

“I may be.”

“I’ll tell you one thing. It isn’t a crush if it is returned. And if I'm not mistaken, he had similar feelings for you.”

“And I believe that is what got all of us into the clone incident,” Spock said dryly.

That sobered Kirk. “Yes.” He said nothing more for he did not know Spock’s feelings about any of that series of events. Spock hadn’t talked to him, either, outside of finally expressing a need to seek out McCoy to see if he was faring well.

“Jim, he fell in love so easily with the clone because he thought it was me. I cannot compete with myself romantically. But, at the same time, I am at a disadvantage because it was the same as me who hurt him so badly. I hope, in time, to make him trust me so that we can be friends again. And, maybe, more to each other eventually.”

Kirk slowly nodded with approval. “And I think you’ll make it. You know, Leonard McCoy is a lucky man. A lucky man, indeed.”

“No, Jim,” Spock answered softly. “I am.”

Quick tears smarted at Kirk's eyes. "Hell, Spock, you're gonna make me bawl all over you."

"Please, Captain. Not on my uniform. I just got it cleaned."

Kirk laughed through the tears that were still threatening to fall. "McCoy's right! You really are a piss-ant!"

Spock drew himself up haughtily. "There have been extreme allegations made to that effect."

Happy tears spilled over as Kirk hugged Spock despite the dangers to his newly laundered uniform.

"Damn it, Spock! You make me happy!"

Spock wanted to answer that Kirk made him happy, also. But for once, the human side won in Spock's constant battle with his emotions. He simply hugged his beloved captain in return while his own happy tears flowed inside his heart. He was, after all, still part Vulcan. Tears had to stay inside, not exposed so all could see his easy emotions. He couldn't be that human, even if he tried.

But he could make an occasional stab at it.


	12. Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy resumes his life back aboard the Enterprise.

Leonard McCoy materialized on one of the transporter pads on the Starship Enterprise. He looked around, as amazed as ever that he had reassembled, intact, and without leaving a limb in limbo somewhere on his journey here through space.

”Welcome aboard, Dr. McCoy,” greeted the crewman operating the transporter.

”Thank you, it’s good to be back. All in one piece. And you have no idea how much that still impresses me,” McCoy said as he stepped off the transporter pad and walked toward the console.

”I’ve heard that you do not trust the transporter system, Doctor.”

McCoy stopped in front of the control console. “I object on general principles to my molecules being taken apart and reassembled when I reach my destination. If God would have intended for that to happen, I would've been born as pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. I always figure I’m going to find a leg growing out of my ear, or something smaller that I definitely don't want growing there." With a knowing look, he raised an eyebrow. "IF you know what I mean.”

The young man grinned. “Yes, sir.”

McCoy studied him. Couldn’t be more than twenty-two. He looked again. Those slightly bucked front teeth looked familiar. “Ensign Miller, isn’t it?”

”Yes, sir,” the young man answered with a grin. “That’s amazing that you would remember me, sir. I came aboard only a few days before you left the service.”

”Well, I’m back now, Ensign,” McCoy growled. “This time for good.”

”That’s good news, sir. Oh, your luggage will be delivered to you as soon as it is unloaded in the cargo hold.”

”Thanks, Miller. I’ll let you get back to your duties now.”

”Thank you, sir. I hope that you have a pleasant rest of your day, sir.”

So do I, McCoy thought to himself.

He walked along the hallways and was amazed at the feelings of nostalgia that rolled over him. How he had missed this old tub! But if he got this choked up over the impersonal hallways of the Enterprise, how in the hell was he ever going to be able to face Sickbay, the Bridge, the Cafeteria, or even his own quarters?

Thankfully, he got a lot of his feelings under control by the time he hit the turbo lift.

Then he dealt with the routine task of settling into his old quarters on the Enterprise. He stowed his personal gear back into their usual spots. There wasn't much: clothing in the closet and chest, pictures of Joanna and his parents, a few of his professional credentials, and books. Books, books, books. They always gave any residence of his the comfortable feeling of home that made anywhere he lived more tolerable. Hell, he could curl up around a lamppost if he had to for survival. A wanderer such as himself always had that trait. Just as long as he had a few personal possessions to remind him of former times, he would be alright. The important thing was the here and now. Spock was that way, too, and so was Kirk. Probably the whole crew of the Enterprise was that way. Otherwise, they'd be on Earth, or wherever they were born, doing what their parents had done before them and their parents before them. It took a special breed to live and work in space. Not just anybody could prove up to muster for that calling in life. Yes, sir, not everyone could do it. And Leonard McCoy was proud to be one of those special few.

Even if he hated the idea of being in space itself.

McCoy shoved that thought aside and quickly changed into his familiar blue uniform. Ah, that was better! He was truly home at last!

No, not quite. First sickbay, he thought as he hurried along the corridors, and then the bridge of the Enterprise to sign in officially. Ah, the bridge of the Enterprise! The holiest of the holies. The Holy Grail of all who dream! Nirvana for the wanderer of the stars!

Christine Chapel looked up and smiled as the door slid open to admit him into sickbay.

"Dr. McCoy! So glad to see you back from your sabbatical!"

Well, okay, if that's what she wants to call it. I can hide in denial, too. It is more socially acceptable, isn't it?

"Thank you, Chapel. It's good to be back. How are things going?"

"Just fine, Doctor." Then she quickly corrected herself. "Oh, but they could never be as fine as when you are here, though."

"Thank you for that." He felt a lump in his throat.

Her smile quivered, but she squared her shoulders in determination.

Bless her heart! She had adopted him and was going to protect him with every ounce of loyalty she could muster. He pitied anyone who deviated from the official 'Chapel' line for her boss's absence.

He looked around. "Everything looks shipshape."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Anything that I should know about?"

"There are reports on your desk with the usual access codes to computer files."

"Good, good. But I'll just settle for a general overview for right now and assume that routine health checks have been run on the crew as they were scheduled."

"Yes, they have been, sir. In fact," she said demurely with a glint of humor in her eyes, "records show that you are long overdue for your next routine exam."

He sighed deeply. "Of course I am. Thank you for being so diligent in your work, Chapel."

Merriment was dancing in her eyes. She loved to tease McCoy as much as he liked to tease her. They were a very loving brother and sister to each other.

"Just doing my job, Doctor," she murmured.

"Well, don't let it go to your head," he snapped, but there were no teeth in his venom. "I'm certain that you are about due for an exam yourself."

"You would think of that," she replied in false panic.

"Just doing my job, Nurse," he retorted.

She grinned. "Thanks. I deserved that one."

He grinned with sparkling eyes. "Just keeping you on your toes, as I expect you to keep me on mine."

"My pleasure," she replied with just a touch of flirting in her eyes. She was comfortable enough to do that around him. They were friends now. When she'd had hopes for something more intimate with McCoy, she had been much shyer.

"Well, let's get to work, shall we?"

"Yes, Doctor." She turned back to her files.

Oh, Christine, there is one thing."

She turned back to him. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I have a friend. Carrie Carter. She was my nurse while I was on my shore sabbatical. I think that she might do well somewhere away from Georgia. I'm thinking of recommending that she join Star Fleet. You know, the Academy and all of that. I think that she might be able to speed right through it with the college hours and nursing experience that she's already got behind her. I wonder if you might correspond with her. I think that you two might really hit it off in the friend's department. I'm not saying that you have to be best buddies or anything like that. I'm just asking that you give her a try. What do you say? And you can always say 'no,' of course," he finished in a slightly dejected voice that was meant to mirror his disappointment if she refused. He knew that he was being a cad by putting on pressure like that, but he really thought that the two ladies could be friends.

She smiled the smile that he knew she would and squeezed his arm in friendly intimacy. "Why, of course, I will, Doctor. I would like to correspond with your friend. I am certain that she will be a delight to know."

That's my good girl, he wanted to say in praise, but knew he had no need. She already knew.

Then he remembered something.

"Before I get to those reports awaiting my attention on my desk, I'm going to have to leave sickbay first."

"Oh?"

"I need to report for active duty to my commanding officer. Otherwise, I'll be AWOL, even though I'm on board." He looked surprised. "Hell, I suppose that would also technically make me a stowaway, wouldn't it? I'm piling up quite a criminal record just by standing here, aren't I?"

"Can't have any of that now, can we?" she asked with a friendly grin. "You go on now and do what you have to do to keep from landing in the brig on your first day back. I'll stay here and hold down the fort until you return."

He winked. "I know that I'll be leaving sickbay in capable hands." He studied her with a warm, thoughtful look. "Thanks, Chapel. Thanks for everything." Then he surprised them both by leaning forward and kissing her cheek.

It didn't hit him about the clone until he was walking the deserted corridors of the Enterprise. There was nowhere else to go except the Bridge, the Bridge where he was always used to seeing the clone. At first, he'd have the excitement of getting settled in again and getting reacquainted, but soon there would be nothing but him and his memories. Everyday routine would start, and that was when the old history would really hit him.

This was where it had all happened. The clone incident. It was one thing to shore up his courage in Georgia, but it would be different here. Could he face it? Could he face all of those memories and embarrassment alone?

But he wouldn't be alone, he thought with a sigh of relief. He'd have the help of his friends. They would see him through this. Spock.... Spock would see him through this. Jim and the others, too. He knew that he shouldn't trust anyone so completely, but he'd always done that. He supposed he'd always do that. Even if he got hurt again, he'd keep coming back for more. Because, foolish as it might appear to be to some people, he lived with hope and trust. He'd just forgotten it for awhile until Spock reminded him of it again. Even though he'd thought that he was contended with a new life in Georgia, he hadn't felt as alive as he felt now.

He paused at the turbo lift. Here he was going, leading with his heart again. If it was true that people treasured the dreamers and lovers, he was bound to be much beloved. He loved big and he hurt big. And thankfully, there were people here who were willing to love him back. He just had to allow it. Again. He might get hurt, but the love made it all worthwhile.

Trust, McCoy, and hope. Take a deep breath and a deeper plunge. They'll love you for your stupidity and guts, if nothing else.

When McCoy appeared on the bridge of the Enterprise, it was like coming home again. Quick tears bit at his eyelids as his eyes traveled around the bridge. Everyone was quietly busy at his usual post: Uhura, Chekov, Sulu, Spock, Kirk. The old gang. Even Scotty was there from Engineering. No one acknowledged him, but everyone was vitally aware of McCoy's presence. A mutual sigh of contentment went around the bridge. Everyone was home again.

McCoy even saw Spock's eyes briefly take him in dispassionately, then Spock returned quickly to his scanner. Probably viewing two galaxies colliding together with tremendous loss of life on all worlds while Spock dispassionately took it all in, McCoy decided. Why openly acknowledge McCoy? Damn Vulcan probably wouldn't say shit (or welcome), if he had a mouthful.

Oh, hell, McCoy thought, I just hit the bridge, and I'm talking like a drunken sailor already! What is it about this ship that makes me rant in four letter Anglo-Saxon words? My mother would be washing out my mouth while insisting that she had raised me to be a true Southern gentleman. Oh, well. Welcome home, McCoy!

"Dr. Leonard McCoy, reporting for duty, sir," he announced with his hands at his sides as required by the rule book as he addressed Jim Kirk. He would always honor his captain. That's one thing that he and Spock had in common, among others.

Kirk turned with a lazy grin. "Dr. McCoy. Did you get all settled back into sickbay?"

McCoy relaxed. "Yes. I think that Dr. M'Benga was happy to turn it back over to me, too. He prefers research in the lab to paperwork in the office."

"Well, then, everybody's happy. Glad to have you aboard again, Bones."

"I'm glad to be back aboard again, Captain."

"Carry on then, Doctor," Kirk said, formally dismissing him. "And I'll see you at dinner so we can catch up."

"Aye, Captain." Then McCoy looked to his left to greet his friends.

Scotty was suddenly there with his hand outthrust. "Happy to see you back again, laddie. The Enterprise wasn't feeling the same without you."

"Thanks, Scotty," McCoy said, grinning, as he pumped Scotty's hand. "Good to be back again."

"I'll be happy to be sharing a wee bit of the brew with you later on in my quarters, when you get the chance. I think you'll be liking this new bottle of Scotch that has lately fallen into my possession. It is grand tasting, if I must say so myself."

McCoy gave him an appreciative smile. He'd had many occasions with Scotty when a 'wee bit of the brew' was consumed. "Well, now, Scotty, that sounds like a mighty fine plan to me. A mighty fine plan, indeed."

Good enough!" Scotty said with a beaming smile as he slapped McCoy's upper arm. "We'll give a rousing salute to the Enterprise, grand ol' gal that she is!"

"I will be proud to partake in that salute," McCoy agreed as he watched Scott approach the turbo lift. Then he turned toward the front of the bridge.

Sulu and Chekov gave him smiles over their shoulders which he returned. Then he stepped to his right where Uhura was smiling up at him from her radio.

"I am happy that you are back with us again, Doctor."

"Thanks, Nyota, it feels good to be back in my old sickbay again."

"I know that Christine was happy to see you. You are such a good team together."

"There's nothing like having a competent nurse to assist me. I'd like to say that I missed her in Georgia, but I was lucky to have another young lady working with me there who was equally competent."

"Careful," Uhura teased, "or you'll be making Christine jealous."

McCoy gave Uhura a playful grin. "She has nothing to worry about, unless Carrie decides to sign up for Star Fleet duty. If she ever does, though, I will heartily recommend her."

"Carrie?" Uhura asked with a tilt of her head.

"Carrie Carter, my nurse in Georgia."

"Carrie Carter, hmm? Your friend has the same initials as Christine, doesn't she?"

"Funny, I hadn't thought about that, but she does. Come to think of it, Carrie did remind me a lot of Christine, too. Blonde, quiet, efficient. Small world, right?"

"Small universe, Doctor," Uhura said with a crafty smile.

McCoy moved on. There was only one more person on the bridge left to greet, and McCoy couldn't help but tease him a little. "Mr. Spock. I see that you are hard at it. But I know you. Work, work, work. That's your motto."

"Fascinating nebula that I have been observing," Spock muttered into his scanner.

"Hmm. Well, I must tear you away from your fascinating studies. I have a message for you from Timmy. You know, Timmy from Culver's General Store?"

Spock straightened and finally looked at McCoy. A tiny flicker of recognition crossed Spock's eyes. McCoy hoped that indicated more intense reactions somewhere in, or (hopefully), on the stony-faced Vulcan.

"Ah, yes," Spock noted solemnly. "And how is young Master Timothy these days? Wearing shoes, I hope?"

McCoy grinned. "Nothing that startling. The hound dogs wouldn't know the scent of his shoes. They might start baying at him. They might even tree him."

Spock acknowledged that information with a raised eyebrow and a slight nod. "It sounds as if everything is still unique in the state of Georgia."

"That it is. Anyway, Timmy is thrilled with the anatomy book that you gave to him, and he wanted me to be sure and thank you for it. He said that it was better than getting a new hound dog and a box of shotgun shells for his birthday and having two Christmases a year."

"Young Master Timothy certainly has a colorful way of expressing himself."

"That he does," McCoy agreed with a smile.

"Ah, and I am pleased to hear that his English grammar has improved since I also gave him a book of instruction on his native tongue. He simply needed direction, and I was most happy to provide it for a needy youth of your country."

"Don't be so proud of yourself. I cleaned up Timmy's direct quote quite a bit. It was in the Georgia vernacular and contained some rather ribald, yet accurate expressions from the marshland. You will understand, I hope, when I refrain from using his exact words. After all, we do have a lady on the bridge, and Chekov could still be considered to be an impressionable youth."

"Quite true. We are officers, after all," Spock agreed. "We do have an obligation to encourage and to maintain the moral fiber of our starship. We need to be good role models by showing impeccable behavior."

"I sincerely hope that does not apply to our off-duty hours, Commander," McCoy growled in a low voice as he leaned a little closer toward Spock.

"That may require a detailed explanation of what you mean exactly by your terms, Doctor," Spock said in a perfectly deadpan manner. "A further demonstration of your thesis might also be required. Be prepared for an extended examination of all your major points. Minor points might even be considered to come under close scrutiny, if I deem it appropriate for my increased knowledge."

Interest surged through McCoy from Spock's double talk. "You mean for me to be prepared to practice what I preach? I believe I can handle that."

"Your reassurances are heartening to me, Doctor."

"Anytime, Commander," McCoy said in a flirty voice. "You'll know where to find me." His manner and shining eyes were definitely coquettish. How much more of this could the Vulcan handle?!

"Sickbay?" Spock inquired seriously.

"Yeah." McCoy's face broadened in open invitation. "There, too."

Spock's eyebrow arched with his own interest as McCoy started to turn away.

But McCoy turned back, as if suddenly remembering. "Oh, and, Mr. Spock?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I wanted you in particular to note that I am back aboard the Enterprise again. You had previously suspended some actions of your own until I was once again under your command. I believe that I have now performed my part of that stipulation. I am yours to command, whatever good you think that'll do you," McCoy grumbled with false venom. To anybody listening, such as Uhura, it would sound gruff. But only Spock could see the warmth and twinkle in McCoy's eyes.

And only McCoy saw Spock's eyes change from impersonal dark pools into bubbling warm lava that was nearly ready to spill over. Apparently the image of McCoy at his command was too much stimulation for even Spock. McCoy would have to remember that trigger for other, more suitable occasions. Otherwise, Spock showed no other indication of emotion or awareness of McCoy. But it was enough for McCoy. He could feel the sudden heat radiating off Spock. It empowered McCoy that he had caused that burst in the staid Vulcan.

"Duly noted, Doctor. And I wish you to note that I will likewise acknowledge certain information that I have promised to relate, if and when you were back aboard the Enterprise again."

McCoy's eyes flashed with happiness, then he gave Spock a long, burning look. "Duly noted, Commander. I will be interested in that acknowledgement. If and when you deem it feasible to do so." He deepened his gaze. "I will leave that to your discretion as to where and... how you choose to do that acknowledging."

Spock took a quick breath, but that was all.

McCoy gave Spock a sizzling look as he slowly turned away. That should keep the Vulcan simmering until they could have, ah, further discussions. Then McCoy left the bridge. Sparks should've been trailing after him with as much heat as he was leaving in his wake, though.

Spock watched McCoy's fiery trail that only he could see. But he was on the bridge of the Enterprise. He could not be thinking of McCoy and his fiery tail, uh, that is, trail, now. Time for some thought altering exercises again.

Flesh melting down Uhura's face to drip off her chin. Those beautiful eyes bursting from the heat. That lovely voice silenced forever. Her mouth twisted in a silent scream of eternal agony.

But nothing was working for Spock. No matter how hideous his thoughts, McCoy's fire still lingered to taunt him, to tempt him, to give him no peace.…

And then suddenly, he was seeing McCoy dripping wet from the shower, his skin glistening as water sluiced off it, a sly smile of victory on those tempting lips, a look of wanton desire in those flirty, flirty eyes….

And McCoy wanted Spock to go into the shower with him. And Spock's breath caught. He wanted to share a shower with McCoy, too. Oh, yes, he did. Oh. Oh, yes.

"Why, Mr. Spock," Uhura said. "You have the strangest look on your face. Why are you looking at me like that?"

Spock jerked himself back into the present as Uhura waited for an answer. He felt other eyes on him, also, and turned to see the bemusement on Kirk's face.

Spock straightened his shoulders. "I was thinking how lovely you look today, Lieutentant. And it is my most fervent hope that you continue to do so." And that he would soon be able to stop visualizing her any other way.

Uhura melted into a shy, demure smile as she fingered the short curls at the nape of her neck. "Why, thank you, Mr. Spock. How kind of you to say that."

"I am always ready to note the presence of beauty in my world. Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to my scanner," he said as he turned away.

'Watch yourself there, Commander Spock,' Kirk thought with a smirk as he watched their discussion end. 'You're not exactly telling the truth to the winsome lady, but I will not deceive you. I happen to know that you were distracted, and it was not by the fairer sex.'

Jim Kirk had been surreptitiously watching the exchange between Spock and McCoy and knew that a lot of their conversation held double meanings for his two friends. Although he could not quite hear all that was being said between Spock and McCoy, he could see by their body language that they were responsive to each other. Very responsive, in fact.

Kirk figured that Spock and McCoy's relationship was probably about where it had been before the unfortunate clone incident had occurred. That was right when Spock and McCoy were becoming aware of each other on a personal level. Then Kirk amended himself. Perhaps the relationship was a step or two advanced toward the better. Spock and McCoy were not only aware of each other now, but seemed to be past the awkward stage of not knowing what to do about it. Maybe they were well on their way beyond the crush level, too.

There had been a time, though, in San Francisco when Kirk had thought that he never would get Spock on that jet headed for Atlanta. Thank goodness, gentleman Spock had been willing to step aside so that Kirk's off duty time would be free for Kirk's pursuit of the charming female Star Ship captain. She had been an amazing substitute for Spock at the meetings. Plus, she looked a damn sight better in a bikini than Spock. And better looking without it, also, Kirk thought with a grin to himself.

Kirk sighed deeply. It looked like Spock and McCoy were definitely on the right path, at long last. And Kirk had already arranged to meet the charming female Star Ship captain again next month. Kirk loved it when schemes worked out so well. Nobody was going to have to be sleeping alone, least of all him.

Yes, sir, it was a win-win situation all around, that was for certain. How could life get any better?

Kirk settled back in his command chair. "Steady and easy as she goes, Mr. Sulu."

"Aye, Captain," Sulu responded with a confident air as he guided the mighty Star Ship Enterprise onto her next adventure. "Steady and easy as she goes, sir."


	13. Rolling In My Sweet Baby's Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy and Spock enjoy a loving relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title was suggested by the Bluegrass classic "Roll In My Sweet Baby's Arms" by Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs.

Leonard McCoy raised and lowered his head several times, moving it around as he did so, trying to find just the right spot between Spock's naked left shoulder and neck that fit his head so well.

"Comfortable, Leonard?" Spock asked with some amusement.

"Getting there."

"It seems that was also my answer to your question not too long ago."

"Well, you were rooting around inside me like a damn hog trying to find some tasty, deeply hidden truffles. I just wondered how long you were going to be at it."

"Truffles. Hmm. That might indeed be a new name for your joy spot." He let his lips trail down McCoy's right temple so he could feel his lover's heartbeat against his lips. Light and fluttery, just like McCoy, just the way that Spock liked both McCoy and his heartbeat.

"Joy spot, indeed," McCoy grumbled as he played with Spock's relaxed fingers. It looked like he was playing ‘Itzy, Bitzy Spider’ with Spock’s willing hand.

"I do believe that you came to life when I hit your joy spot, too. I could barely hold you down to finish my business. Luckily, I was already inside of you, or I might have been poking holes in the mattress when you failed to lie still."

"Don't talk vulgar," McCoy reproved, but grinned as he said it.

"You like it when I talk vulgar," Spock murmured as he dropped a soft kiss on the top of McCoy's head. It was meant not to be felt by McCoy, just something between Spock and the beloved body at his command. Spock did not wish to spoil the man lying so lax and trusting in his arms. It was perhaps best that McCoy did not realize how deeply that Spock adored him. Then Spock might lose whatever control he had in their private life.

But McCoy had felt the feathered brushing of Spock's lips in his hair. It would be awfully difficult for Spock to avoid McCoy's noticing Spock’s lips on him when all of the doctor's senses were on high alert for the slightest touch from Spock. Spock probably did not realize how constantly McCoy’s personal radar was attuned to him. That was probably for the best, or else the Vulcan might swell up and forget all the restraints which he had ever placed on himself. McCoy did not wish to be the cause of another man’s moral downfall.

On the other hand, it might be thrilling to be so wicked and daring. Maybe he could be wearing a red evening dress and waltzing with Spock when he did it.

”What are you thinking about, Leonard?”

McCoy glanced up into Spock’s face. “Why?”

”You just got the most pleased look on you face. There also seemed to be a gleam in your eyes.”

”What was I thinking?” He reached up, cupped Spock’s right cheek with his hand, and gave him a suggestive smile. “Seduction, if you must know,” he said softly. “Yours.”

”I would think that you would have had your fill of that sort of exercise for awhile. We are supposed to be in the soft afterglow of lovemaking.” He shifted McCoy around which was so that he gave him a hug. “This is the time for cuddling and reassurances made and traded, a time of mutual support so that we know that what we did was for love and not just for rutting.”

”You have your agenda, Vulcan, and I’ll have mine.”

”Leonard, I know better than that,” Spock reprimanded him. “You more than anybody want to know that you are loved.” He ran a hand up and down McCoy’s bare arm. “And I am more than willing to give you those reassurances.”

”Yeah, and I like the way that you reassure me. On all levels,” he said huskily as he held up his mouth for a kiss, his teasing banter momentarily forgotten.

Spock swiftly complied with a sweet kiss on the lips, then they both shifted around to find their comfortable spots once more. It was not that they were so uncomfortable. They just liked the shifting around, with the touching of their naked fleshes meshing together so nicely.

McCoy shifted his hips and grunted slightly. After all of this time, Spock could still make him sore. But that was the price of passion, he supposed.

"I hurt you," Spock said with remorse and self-reproach.

"Darlin,' don't. Don’t bring yourself to task. I told you that it was alright."

"But I should have practiced more control."

McCoy smiled softly as he turned and placed a kiss on the skin between Spock's nipples. "You hadn't had me for several days. We were separated by that meeting you had to attend. You were understandably eager. I just should have relaxed myself quicker. I just didn't realize that I'd get it shoved at me the moment that the door closed to our quarters. Or that I’d find my face shoved against the wall with one of your arms across my back while your other hand was ripping away the clothing from my lower half.” He grinned. “If this keeps up, I’ll have to start wearing skirts so you can get at me easier. I’m going through my clothing allotment at an alarming rate. The quartermaster just gives me a look like he’d really like to know how come I have to have so many replacements of skivvies and trousers.”

”Perhaps you should wear skirts,” Spock growled. He was not at all charmed by references to his occasional uncontrollable appetites. But sometimes when he saw McCoy, Spock forgot all about control, Star Fleet, and even Jim Kirk. All that he could see was a red haze with McCoy’s appealing body lying waiting for him.

”Not that I’m complaining. I was just as eager as you were. I might’ve been able to have waited, though, until we hit the bedroom and got undressed first. Just inside our quarters and spread-assed against the wall isn’t my idea of romance. Lust maybe, but not romance.”

”Everyone is a critic. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

”Yeah, after the initial shock. Then I had something else to worry about: a horny Vulcan with eight hands and a giant penis. All I can say is that it was a good thing that Jim didn't follow us inside our quarters. He might’ve gotten in on some action that he hadn’t planned on or even wanted. He's probably still curious about that startled yip that I couldn't control as the door closed completely. I hadn't realized that you could grab me from both the front and the back at the same time. I didn’t know that you were that dexterous."

”That was not dexterity,” Spock explained in a voice low and ragged with the memory of his recent dilemma. “That was desperation.”

McCoy had to stifle his urge to burst out laughing. The Vulcan and his unconscious humor!

”Don’t worry. You more than made up for it. Later.”

”After the first time. After I had sated my lusts. I was an animal before then.”

”Now, hush. I don’t want any more talk like that. You picked me up and carried me to bed. You even took the time to chill some lube.” He chuckled. “Let me tell you, that cold lube sure took my breath away when you came slicing into my heat again. It almost made me pass out.”

Spock smiled in remembrance. “You are not the only one who lost breath. When you gasped in so suddenly, you nearly drew me inside you. I had no idea that a sucking action from one end of your body could create suction at the other end. It was quite a sensation.”

”It was just your body being invited into its natural home. It’s where you are meant to be.”

"But last month I took you roughly when we had that disagreement. That was anger, not eagerness. I should not have used you so sorely."

There was that unconscious humor again, but McCoy ignored it this time. There was something else to worry about.

McCoy's eyes flicked over Spock's face. "Darlin', if I'm not complaining, don't worry about it. Besides, I kinda like it when I can make you lose control. I realize then how important that I am to you.”

“Leonard, have I not told you time and time again how very much--”

“Well, sure, telling. But I kinda like it when you show me.” His eyes flicked up to Spock’s face. “Know what I mean?”

“The clone would never have been so rough with you.”

So there they were again, after all of this time, back to the clone. It seemed that, no matter how many reassurances that McCoy gave to Spock, Spock was still afraid that McCoy compared him to the clone, especially in the lovemaking department. Not only compared Spock, but worse yet, found him lacking.

McCoy supposed that it was akin to his doubt that he had never fully reached Spock’s emotions or that Spock trusted him enough to expose his most hidden feelings. Why could Spock never trust him that much? Spock said that he trusted McCoy completely, but McCoy had his doubts. He probably always would.

Something that McCoy had learned through the years is that doubts never entirely go away. They will always be there lurking, ready to pounce when called upon to do so. No matter how deep the trust and love between a couple, the shadow of the rift is there and always will be. Sometimes it appears in an argument. The person using it feels cheap and unfaithful, but also feels justified from his own remembered pain from long ago. Not even the look of anguish on the partner’s face will stop the use of one’s old hurt.

But perhaps McCoy could somewhat ease Spock’s doubts about the clone now.

”It’s just that lack of control that makes you different from the clone.”

Spock frowned.

”He was always wanting to please me.”

”And I do not?!”

”Let me rephrase that.” Spock didn’t often raise his voice, but McCoy could see how justified Spock had been in this case. “He catered. Let me have my way. In everything.”

Spock pursed his lips together.

”Let me win arguments. Every argument.”

”That is the end of our discussion, Leonard. I cannot participate in this conversation. I cannot be the ideal that the clone created for you--”

”I do not want that ideal. I want you.”

Spock huffed and took exception with that, also.

” Love is give and take, not catering. Darlin,’ look. You could be my ideal. But I most assuredly cannot be your ideal back. I’m not perfect at anything, except loving you.”

”What if I say that you are my ideal?” Spock demanded in a snit.

”Then I’d say that you were coming awfully close to lying.”

”I did say, ‘what if,’” Spock maintained.

”And I said ‘awfully close.’” 

McCoy played with Spock’s hand, and Spock closed his eyes with the soft Vulcan kisses of apology that McCoy was giving to him.

”Face it, darlin,’ neither one of us is ideal, in anything. But what’s important is that we work at our relationship and consider the feelings of each other. That is more important to me than having ten clones of you waiting on me hand and foot.”

Spock grinned shyly. “How about one real me waiting on your whole body, and not just your appendages?”

Damn idiom, McCoy thought, but let it pass. Consider what was important here, Leonard.

McCoy grinned back softly. “I think I’d like that just fine.” He raised his face for a sweet kiss and was quickly granted one. Spock was always very thorough in that department.

They settled back into each others’ arms again after the usual shifting around which they both found so pleasurable.

”It doesn’t get any better than this, does it?”

”What is that, Leonard?”

”Flying around in the heavens in our own spaceship. Lovers down on Earth can only gaze up at the stars and dream about being up here among them. But here we are, traveling among the stars, seeing the wonders of the universe for ourselves, and doing all of that together.”

”May I remind you that you hate the concept of space travel? Or that you do not like to be told about the thin shell of this spacecraft that is the only thing between you and the cold nothingness of space that would bring you an instant and an agonizing death?”

McCoy looked up at him with disgust. “You have no romance in your soul.”

”I have more than enough romance in my soul, Leonard. But I also have a logical mind. The stars are beautiful to behold, but they can expect an exacting price if one makes a fatal mistake while traveling among them.”

”Well, if you make a fatal mistake while traveling among them, be sure to have me along with you. ‘Cause I don’t want to go on living if you’re not around anymore. I don’t mind dying, but I don’t want to do it alone. And I don’t want to be left alone.”

It was a fear of Spock’s, also, to be irretrievably separated from McCoy forever. Spock gave McCoy a hug. “Of that, I can assure you. If it is in my power, I will honor your request.” He stroked McCoy’s arm as he stared, unseeing, across their bedroom. “Because it is my request, too.”

”Good darlin,’” McCoy murmured as he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Spock’s forearm. It wasn’t ‘good, darlin,’ but ‘good darlin.’ McCoy meant it as a compliment and not as an affirmation.

”I don’t ever want to give this up, darlin.’”

”You do not need to.”

McCoy frowned as he played with Spock hands. “Well, you know, sometime that may happen.” He bit his lips together. “Whether we want it or not.”

”Oh,” Spock said softly. THAT separation, that final separation, that was bound to happen sometime in the future. Unless they happened to die at the same time. And that sort of thing happened very rarely, unless the couple had a suicide pact.

”I’m bound to go first. I’m already older than you, and an Earthling. When that happens, I want you to go on living.”

”Leonard--”

”No, no, we have to face this. And I don’t want you to die just because I have. I want you to go on living.”

”Leonard--”

”No, no, I’m serious. You have to make your life count and let me go.”

”That I will never do. I will keep you in my heart. I will never lose you that way.”

”Damn romantic Vulcan!” McCoy muttered.

”And if I go first, Leonard--”

”Nope, won’t happen. I won’t allow it.”

”Leonard--”

”Nope, I won’t listen to anything like that.”

”Leonard, be fair. You made me listen to you.”

”Oh, okay, if you insist. But I won’t like it, and I won’t accept it.”

”Leonard, you must. I wish the same stipulations as you made of me.”

”Man, you’re pushy. Oh, alright, I’ll play fair. I suppose then, that if something happens to you, that you’ll be taking up resistance in my heart.” He glanced up at Spock. “Right?”

”If you will allow it, Ashayam.”

The discussion was finally getting to McCoy. He buried his face in Spock’s hand and screwed his eyes tightly shut. “As if I could ever deny you anything.”

Spock pulled his arm around McCoy’s shoulders and kissed the top of McCoy’s head. He stared, unseeing, into middle space.

”If I go first, Leonard--”

”Oh, hell, oh, hell,” McCoy moaned into Spock’s hand.

Spock left a trail of kisses over McCoy’s hair.

”If I go first, Leonard, I want you to look for me. I will be waiting for you in the stars.”

Startled, McCoy looked up into Spock’s face. “What?”

”I will live in your heart, but you can see me in the stars.”

McCoy was thinking back to a conversation that he had once had with the stars over Georgia. “I’ll look for you in the stars because all the parts of you will be scattered around the heavens.”

Spock frowned. “Yes,” he said slowly. “How did you know that?”

McCoy scooted his head back into Spock’s chest. “Because I once looked for you there. And then you came to me. And I knew I was safe. As I know it now. You will always protect me, and I need not fear space anymore.”

”That is true, Leonard.”

”Yeah, I don’t fear space anymore because you’re in it, either in your present state or floating around like a cloud of space dust. But the transporter is an entirely different matter. You’ll never get me to loving that thing. It’s the devil’s device.”

Spock sighed. “Go to sleep, Leonard.”

McCoy moved his head up and down, looking for a comfortable spot again. “You’re not planning on becoming a cloud of space dust anytime soon, are you, Vulcan?”

”No, Leonard. I will notify you if and when the prospect arises.” He thought. “If I have the opportunity and the time, that is.”

”Damn straight,” McCoy muttered as softly kissed whatever bare Vulcan skin was available for his lips to reach. “I wouldn’t want you checking out, and me missing it.”

”Go to sleep, Leonard,” Spock said as he closed his eyes with determination. “I am tired from the mission I have been on and from servicing you as soon as I walked in the door.”

McCoy looked up. “I think that was kinda mutual.”

”Hmm,” Spock hummed and composed himself for sleep.

”Hey, Spock?”

Spock opened one eye and looked down. “What, Leonard?”

”I love you, Spock.”

Spock squirmed around for a comfortable spot. “I love you, too, Leonard,” he mumbled sleepily.

”Hey, that’s not the kind of thing that you say and then go to sleep!”

”It is the kind of thing that I am saying tonight, Leonard.”

”What if I want to get frisky? What if I want you to service me again?”

Spock opened an eye. “Now?

”I might. Yeah, I might. Hell, yeah! Why not?!”

In answer, Spock pulled his arms around McCoy and rolled them both on their sides.

”Oh, yeah! That’s more like it! You’re all lined up now! Just get yourself in the mood, and go at it!”

”I will check with you in the morning. If you are still in the mood, I will consider servicing you then.”

”A morning thing?”

”Yes,” Spock slurred. “If we are lucky.”

”Oh, Vulcan, luck will have nothing to do with it. I'll give you all of the inspiration that you will require. Spock? Spock?”

Spock did not answer.

McCoy thought about it, then shrugged. Why the hell not? He gathered Spock’s forearm against his chest and snuggled with it tightly.

”’Night, Vulcan.”

”Hmm,” Spock responded without moving.

McCoy was soon dreaming about stars whirling in the heavens above him.

They seemed to be in the pattern of Spock’s face.

And that was just fine with Leonard McCoy. Spock was in the center of McCoy's heaven, and that was exactly where he should be.

Behind him, Spock smiled in his sleep, happy to be the center of McCoy's universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of "Roll In My Sweet Baby's Arms" by Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs. Neither do I own anything from the estates nor represent the estates of the late Lester Flatt and/or the late Earl Scruggs.

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing of Star Trek, its characters, and/or its story lines.


End file.
